


Immortals

by Booknerdproblems



Category: Throne of Glass Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Angst, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fenrys deserves better, Fluff, Implied Non-Con, Maeve sucks, Rowaelin is endgame, Slow Burn, The Author Regrets Everything, The Author Regrets Nothing, probably, updates regularly
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-26
Updated: 2020-11-12
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:28:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 21,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24927700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Booknerdproblems/pseuds/Booknerdproblems
Summary: In a world where Erawan was rightfully killed by Elena in the war, Aelin's parent's were actually cool and got her trained in magic, but Maeve's still really annoying, Aelin Ashryver Galathynius, newly crowned Queen of Terrasen, travels to Doranelle.
Relationships: Aelin Ashryver Galathynius | Celaena Sardothien & Rowan Whitethorn, Aelin Ashryver Galathynius | Celaena Sardothien/Fenrys, Aelin Ashryver Galathynius | Celaena Sardothien/Rowan Whitethorn
Comments: 145
Kudos: 297





	1. Chapter 1

Rowan Whitethorn had a gods awful day.  
First, he had been awakened at a gods-awful hour by a tug on the blood-oath, Maeve wanting him to get to training early that day. Queen Maeve was throwing a ball for all the nobles in Doranelle, hosted in her palace in the City of Rivers, meaning he was on gods-damned guard duty for all the vendors and hired personnel for this event.

Now, the music was playing, the nobles chatting and mingling, and thus the ball had begun. 

The stuffiness of the combined perfumes and scents overwhelmed his Fae senses, and his green and silver tunic was much too restricting, in his opinion. He was required to be there, for what he didn’t know, since Fenrys and Gavriel were on guard duty, scanning the room beside Maeve’s stone throne, from where she sat inspecting the room.

All the high fae were there, along with some royalty travelled from faraway lands, all pure-blooded Fae, of course. The lavishness of these events made Rowan grind his teeth, he’d seen the struggling demi-fae and poorer aspects of this fucked-up world, but, after all, it wasn't his place to question Maeve. Not with the blood oaths constraints. It was beginning to seem like an honour less and less, with all he and his… companions were forced to do. Especially Fenrys, behind closed doors. The male grated on his nerves endlessly, but he was loyal to those he loved to a fault, and he, under all his arrogance and swaggering, was a good male.

Rowan was hiding from Remelle, a female with whom he had a… past, as he had been for the last hour.  
He was nursing a glass of strong faerie wine, wishing he could drown himself in it.  
Nothing at this gods-forsaken ball was remotely interesting, and he found himself wondering whether he’d even enjoy training his cousin’s younglings rather than being in this gold-gilded hall.

-x-

Two painful hours later, just as true night had fallen, was when Rowan felt it. Power. An alluring tug in his blood at the sheer amount of it. He saw Fenrys perk up, and Maeve sit a little straighter, just as the tall stone doors at the end of the room opened with a flourish.

A female strode in, flanked by two others. She was unfairly beautiful, flowing blonde hair and turquoise eyes, highlighted by black cosmetics around her eyes. She wore a floor-length, rich black velvet dress, completely covering her arms and back, but the modesty of it undone by how tightly it hugged her generous assets, and the leg slit revealed just enough of a tanned thigh to push the boundaries of propriety. Tall, strappy silver heels were on her feet, and although no crown or tiara decorated her head, she radiated status and demanded respect. And she was completely blooded with power. It was like she oozed it, and as she took a swaggering step forward, sparks flashed at her feet. Embers rippled through her hair, revealing her pointed ears and flames flickered in the depths of her eyes. Nobody would ever mistake her for anything but regal.

Her companions, flanking her, one a human man armed to the teeth despite his finery, and one female, beautiful beyond measure, no weapons to be seen despite the feral look in her eyes. A strange, ever-changing scent reached him. A shifter then. Rare, formidable opponents, capable of slipping anywhere unseen, unequalled spies and assassins. 

The strange trio had reached Maeve, and although the shifter and the man bowed at the waist, the Fae female at the head of the company simply stared directly at Maeve, her gaze flicking over and Fenrys once, a cool, calculating glance, pausing slightly at Gavriel, before returning to the Fae Queen.

She gave Maeve a once over, a feline smirk curving her painted lips.

“Cute dress.” The newcomer’s voice was as smooth as silk, her voice revealing a foreign accent. It sent unexpected shivers down Rowan’s spine.

Maeve looked down from the dais, her expression telling Rowan that no, she was not expecting these guests. 

“Aelin Ashryver Galathynius," was all Maeve said, disregarding the female’s earlier comment.

Holy burning gods. Rowan’s shock hit him like a blow to the face. Aelin Galathynius, freshly crowned Queen of Terrasen, after the assassination of her parents, Rhoe and Evalin, just last year. Aelin of the Wildfire was rumoured to have unparalleled fire power, and be a formidable opponent in battle, after she helped defeat an Ironteeth uprising two years ago, at the side of Crochan Queen Manon Blackbeak.  
The nobles around them were tittering, on edge from this god-like presence. 

“Hello, Aunt.” Aelin replied smoothly, her honeyed voice sliding over Rowan’s skin.

“What a...lovely surprise.” Those words were a threat and a question. 

“Well,” Aelin snagged a glass of fizzing wine from a table nearby, not at all fazed by the eyes on her, “since I figured my invitation got lost in the mail,” another smirk and sip of her drink, “I thought I’d come see what my predecessors made such a fuss about.”

“And how long will you and your,” Maeve swept her gaze over the rounded ears of Aelin’s friends, “companions, be staying, exactly?”

“We merely wish to enjoy Doranelle, a nice little break from ruling, maybe set up a few trade contacts.”

Rowan didn’t believe that for one second, and from the twist of Maeve’s mouth, she didn’t think so either.

“Of course, my dear niece. And will you be needing accommodation in your… free spirited stay here.”

“Only for tonight, in the morning we will find more… casual accommodation.” Aelin looked faintly amused at the way this conversation was going, and took a sip of her drink, maintaining eye contact with Maeve all the while.

The Fae of Doranelle were watching this exchange like a sporting match, never daring to re-start the music, less they find themselves at the end of Maeve's wrath. Or, Rowan supposed, the wrath of this new queen, daring to address Maeve without her proper title or respect that came with being Queen of the Fae. Aelin Light-Bringer was a female, perhaps, of equal power and standing, maybe the only one in a thousand years to rival Maeve. And that made her a threat. One of the biggest threats Rowan had ever faced, despite his admiration for this bold female.  
Indeed, Fenrys was staring at her with poorly disguised reverence, as well as running his eyes over her lithe body repeatedly. Gavriel was watching with interest, maybe a hint of fear and confusion and Lorcan, who Rowan saw entered at the waves of power, was glaring at the young Queen of Terrasen with violent promises in his eyes.  
Maeve was watching her with caution, and almost a gleam of hunger in her eyes. Hunger for this female’s power, youth, spirit.  
Yet despite the unspoken threats and power that rippled in the room, the Heir of Fire just seemed endlessly amused, as if she had just made a move in the game of worlds. Aelin simply downed her glass of wine and stepped onto the dancing floor as Maeve nodded to the entertainment, the music starting up again and the Fae hesitantly murmuring among each other.

Yes, it seemed Aelin Ashryver Galathynius had made quite the impression on Doranelle, and didn’t seem likely to stop any time soon.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovely people! Chapter 2 of Immortals! Just a warning that this chapter has implied non-con so please take care of yourselves!

TW: implied non-con

Just as Rowan finally managed to close his eyes for the night, the sounds of party-goers finally fading away, a tug in his blood jolted him awake.  
He groaned, but flipped the covers off his body, grabbing his weapons and pulled on a shirt hurriedly.  
Rowan strode out the door, jogging onto the street and around the few buildings it took to get to the stone palace. Rowan had always wondered why there was so much stone, when wood was cheaper and easier to work. Still, the palace was impressive, and he walked quickly across the verandah, and into the throne room.  
The rest of his cadre were already there, though none of them looked up when he entered. He quickly bowed to Maeve, who was sitting on her throne of stone, Connall, in wolf form, at her side.  
He stood upright, and glanced around at the warriors around him. Lorcan and Gavriel were still in their formal clothes, but himself, Fenrys and Vaughan were in casual tunics and pants.  
Rowan thought he knew what this impromptu meeting was about, which was why he wasn’t surprised when Maeve finally opened with,

“Aelin Ashryver Galathynius.” 

Rowan made sure to keep his face unreadable as Maeve scanned them all for reactions. He didn’t know why, or how, but something about the Queen of Terrasen unnerved Maeve. No small feat considering the immortal queen was older than Brannon himself. 

Maeve was still speaking,

“-don’t trust her. She brought only two companions, non-Fae at that, and spoke of setting up trade contacts. Do I even have to say she has ulterior motives?” Maeve swept an assessing gaze over them, her eyes piercing.  
“Rowan, I want you to take the lead with my niece, Fenrys can go with you.” Rowan started, he wasn’t usually assigned to talking with royalty and diplomats, it went to the easier talkers such as Gavriel or Fenrys.  
He simply nodded, bowing his head. Maeve looked at them all, and her dark power rumbled through the room. Rowan tensed, but remained calm.  
Whatever Maeve saw must have satisfied her, as she nodded firmly, before speaking.

“Leave, all of you. Report back to me soon.” 

They were all, Connall included, halfway out of the room when she spoke again,

“Fenrys, stay.” 

Fenrys, walking beside him, tensed as his breathing quickened, before turning around and stiffly  
walking back toward Maeve. 

The last thing Rowan saw as he left the room was Fenrys speaking in hushed sentences, before stopping unnaturally in the middle of a sentence as his knees hit the ground on top of the raised dais. 

-x-

A couple of hours later, just as dawn was breaking, Rowan, Lorcan and Gavriel sat in a small meeting room along a corridor in the stone palace, around a wooden table in the centre. 

“She’s dangerous,” Lorcan was saying, “more dangerous than we think.”

Rowan agreed whilst Gavriel just made a small sound of assent, deep in his own thoughts. 

“Who are the companions?” Rowan asked, directing the question at Lorcan.

“A female shifter, and a fully human male, from what I can smell. The male is a lord I think, goes by the name of Ren Allsbrook, but I cannot tell the rank of the shifter. It would seem Aelin Galathynius does not pull rank all too often.”

Interesting. Very interesting, to have a potentially immortal queen, blooded with power, not enforce rank in her court, young as she was. And to bring non-fae into Doranelle. That was a challenge in itself.

“Her parents were Rhoe Galathynius and Evalin Ashryver, correct?” Gavriel blurted quickly.  
Lorcan grunted confirmation. Gavriel looked uncomfortable, unusual for the steadfast older warrior. 

“How old is she?” Gavriel asked another question.

“Twenty-two.” Rowan jumped as Fenrys’ voice came from the doorway.

Gavriel looked more at ease at that answer, beckoning Fenrys into the chair in between him and Rowan. Fenrys sat, bracing his forearms on his thighs and putting his head in his hands. Gavriel placed a careful hand on the younger males’s shoulder, giving Fenrys the time to object to the touch.

“You okay, boyo?” Rowan asked Fenrys quietly.

The blonde sighed, nodded and sat up straight, shaking off Gavriel’s hand. He smirked, although it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“This Aelin is… something else,” Fenrys added, “attractive too.”

“I have a feeling she’d agree with you there.” Rowan replied, deadpan. Fenrys just gave him a look.

“And what’s with Mr Grumpy in charge of talking to her?” 

Lorcan snorted from the other end of the room and Rowan growled at the jab.

“Either way,” Fenrys commented, “this is going to be one exciting visit.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come talk to me on Tumblr @booknerdproblems


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovely people! Chapter three is here! This is a bit of a filler chapter, so it is shorter and not my best work as I couldn't get it to flow right. Next chapter will make up for it. Promise!
> 
> TW:none

_Cheers of joy reached Rowan’s ears, streamers were thrown and children laughed in the streets. Music filtered through the cobbled streets, so unlike those of Doranelle, the melodies joyous and upbeat. Smiles graced everybody's faces, not an unhappy soul in sight. Rowan was wearing a finely made tunic and pants, but they were comfortable and easy to move in, not at all like the itchy, restricting clothing made by the shopkeepers in Doranelle. You would think immortality would make better clothing.  
Rowan was happy and content, a wide smile curving his lips as he overlooked the chanting crowds. _

_His arm was wrapped around a lithe, warm body, pressed into his side. He turned his head, pressing a kiss to the top of her head, the golden-blonde strands floating on a phantom breeze._

_He took her hand, bringing it up between them and placing another kiss on the ring newly added to her finger._

_Someone clapped him on the shoulder, and he looked back to see Fenrys smiling warmly at him,_

_“Congrats, Rowan. You both deserve this happiness.”_

_Rowan smiled at Fenrys, and looked back to the crowds, still chanting with joy._

_He turned his head, and met the turquoise-and-gold eyes of Aelin Ashryver Galathynius. ___

__Long live Queen Aelin! Long live King Rowan! Long may they reign!_ _

__-x-_ _

__Rowan shot upright, his heart pounding as blood roared in his ears. He ran a hand through his hair and swung his legs over the side of the bed, his breathing uneven. He grabbed a shirt and weapons, heading for the forest that surrounded the City of Rivers. That dream had unnerved him. The new queen and… him. Engaged. Side by side. In the white walls of Orynth. No blood oath. No pain, no death, no war. And it looked… nice. Content. He’d even looked happy.  
But that wasn’t his reality. No, in reality he had a blood-oath, immortality and no memory of being truly happy. Not real, that dream wasn’t real. _ _

__That was what Rowan was repeating, over and over in his head as he ran. Not real, as his feet thumped on the forest floor. Not real, as his Fae form streaked through the trees. Not real, as sweat started to form a sheen over his skin. Not real, not real, not real._ _

__Ever since Lyria died, he’d been in an endless loop of serve and protect. Maeve, his brothers, the Fae of Doranelle. But Rowan still felt discontent, as if there was something better out there, just waiting for him to find. In the deepest parts of him, he longed to be free, to see more and more of the forests and mountains that covered the world. And even deeper than that, he longed to have a home. Doranelle had never quite been his home, not really. In his and Lyria’s house, nestled in the mountains, was the only place he’d truly felt content. And even then he’d longed to leave. And he had. He’d left his pregnant mate alone. And they’d slaughtered her for it._ _

__Just as Rowan was about to turn back toward Doranelle, the clash of swords and grunts of effort reached his ears. He looked through the trees, and his breath caught in his throat.  
Aelin Galathynius was fighting. Training, by the looks of it, with the human lord. She was dressed in a skintight black suit that looked like it hid more than a few lethal weapons.  
And she was good. Really good. And completely unmatched. She moved like a storm-blessed wind, swift and sharp and strong. The man was panting, barely still gripping his sword as he deflected attack after attack. She had barely worked up a sweat. Her hair was high up in a ponytail, the ends drifting just to her lower back, even tied up. Her hairstyle revealed her rounded ears, and Rowan stared, curious, at the way she moved. Less grace, less power than the night of the ball, not an ember to be seen. Utterly human, as much as she’d been fully fae before. And still entirely lethal. _ _

__Gods, if this was her as a human, imagine how much of a fighter she’d be in her Fae form. She might even be able to beat him._ _

__Before he could take a step toward the pair, Aelin stopped and sheathed her sword, the young lord just smiling grimly at her before stumbling to where they’d stashed waterskins, nestled in the roots of a gnarled tree._ _

__“Damn, Aelin,” the man, Ren, panted._ _

__Aelin just smirked, not moving out of her defensive position. She was scanning the trees around the  
clearing she stood in the middle of, her piercing eyes drinking in every detail. Rowan quickly moved, on Fae-silent feet into the shadows of the nearest tree, not wanting to be seen. No matter how sharp they were, her human eyes would never catch a Fae when they didn't want to be seen. Aelin seemed to debate shifting, but seemed to decide against it, just offering a hand up to the male sitting on the forest floor.   
“Let’s go,” Aelin muttered, “we aren’t alone.”  
The man took her hand, hauling himself up and casting a look around the clearing, clearly uneasy. Rowan turned, deciding not to follow, instead sprinting back to Doranelle, relishing the fleeting glimpse of freedom that came with pushing his body to the limits. _ _

__

__-x-_ _

__“Report.” Was Maeve’s only order to the cadre._ _

__Vaughan started, “The shifter. Lysandra Ennar, from no noble bloodline, but to be a Lady of Terrasen when she chooses. She owns a small territory in the north of Terrasen, by the name of Carraverre, but has not yet taken up the title.”_ _

__Maeve nodded, her face impassive._ _

__Gavriel spoke next, “Her Majesty has left a demi-fae male in charge in her stead, goes by the name of Aedion Ashryver, a Prince of Wendlyn, her blood-sworn, lived in Terrasen since birth.”  
The wise male had an odd sort of tension in his face but it, thankfully, didn’t draw Maeve’s notice._ _

__Rowan hesitated, then spoke, “She’s a formidable fighter. She’s had training, and a lot of it. I saw her sparring with the human male this morning. He's good for a human, but she could beat him into the dust in minutes. In her Fae form, with her magic, she could easily take on any of us.”_ _

__At this, Maeve finally looked interested._ _

__“And without her magic?” She asked._ _

__Rowan thought back to the forest, where Aelin Galathynius had displayed her skills. She was in her human form, not an ember to be seen, and still utterly unbeatable by a human. But by a Fae? With her magic, she’d be unstoppable._ _

__“Without her magic, in her human form, we could beat her. In her Fae form, again without magic, it would be hard to say. I don’t believe we have seen the true extent of her skills. And armed, with her power, it would be nearly impossible to get her into a position of no magic.”_ _

__Maeve’s face remained impassive, but her eyes betrayed a glimmer of interest._ _

__Fenrys spoke again, “Rowan and I will approach the queen today, to see if she would like an audience with you, majesty, or to see the trade advisor.”_ _

__The trade advisor, an older Fae noble, who Rowan would enjoy seeing go head-to-head with the Light-Bringer._ _

__Maeve nodded to Fenrys, a sign of acceptance, then dismissed them all._ _

__-x-_ _

__On the streets of Doranelle, the sun beating down, Rowan looked to Fenrys, mentally cataloging the weapons he had on him. Hopefully, this meeting wouldn’t come to blows, but it didn’t help to be prepared._ _

__Standing in front of the suite of rooms that would lead them to Aelin Ashryver Galathynius, Rowan Whitethorn took a breath, nodded to Fenrys, and knocked on the green-and-gold door._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come chat to me on Tumblr @booknerdproblems


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovely people! Chapter four of Immortals, here we go! Thank you all so so much for your amazing comments and kudos and everything!   
> TW: swearing

Rowan took another deep, steadying breath as the door swung open, revealing the beautiful female shifter, whose mouth curved up into a smirk at the sight of them. She was wearing an emerald-green dress that drew your eyes to her curves, and gold jewelry that glinted with every moment.

“Hello.” She purred, her eyes sweeping over them appreciatively. 

“Hello,” Fenrys smirked, returning the favour.

“And who might you be?”

“Well, darling,” Fenrys started, before Rowan cut him off with a sharp look.

“Prince Rowan Whitethorn,” he inclined his head, “and Lord Fenrys Moonbeam.”

The female looked delighted and infinitely amused as she turned her gaze to Fenrys.

“Moonbeam?” She drawled, raising her eyebrows.

Fenrys just smirked back at her, a look that was surely meant to be charming. Rowan rolled his eyes before speaking again.

“We would request an audience with Her Majesty Aelin Galathynius,” he said formally.

Stunning green eyes near glowed with almost feral delight as they returned to him, flicking to his weapons before meeting his eyes and speaking in sweet, sugar coated tones,

“Of course, if you would give me a moment.”

Then the door was slammed in their faces. 

-x-

Rowan turned to Fenrys, eyebrows raised. The younger male seemed delighted, a shit-eating grin on his face.

“I told you this was going to be fun,” the male smirked.

Muffled shouting came from inside the suite of rooms, as if yelling through walls. With Fae ears, their conversation was easy to overhear,

“Aelin! You have two very muscled guests here for you!”

“What do they want, Lysandra?” Came the muffled yell back

“How am I supposed to know?” Lysandra replied

“Uh. Because you opened the door?”

“Shall I let them in or not?” 

“I just bathed!”

“Use a towel! You’re the one with fire powers!”

“Fuck you!”

“Love you too!”

Fenrys seemed to be shaking with suppressed laughter, and even Rowan felt his own lips twitch up at the exchange.

The door swung open again, the shifter beckoning them inside, her dark hair newly swept into a bun, extenuating the long lines of her body. 

“If you come with me, Aelin will be out in one moment.” 

She led them to a small collection of comfortable cushioned chairs in a wide, open room, and took a seat, gesturing for them to do the same. There was no sign of the young lord.

“My name is Lysandra. It is a pleasure to meet you.”

“Pleasure’s ours,” Fenrys took a seat opposite her, Rowan next to him, leaving three others open.

A muffled thump and curse came from a room nearby, and Lysandra appeared to be suppressing a grin. A door off of the room opened, and Aelin Ashryver Galathynius walked in. 

She was wearing a finely-made but casual blue and gold tunic, with cream pants tucked into polished knee-high boots, a belt of daggers slung carlessley around her waist. No cosmetics adorned her tanned face, and her wavy blonde hair was sodden with water, but it was drying visibly, as if she was doing it herself. She was in her Fae form, and she was still slightly bent over, tying the laces on her pants. 

As she straightened up, her eyes shot straight to them, running over them, taking note of their weapons, their body language, where they were sat. 

Rowan and Fenrys stood up, bowing slightly at the waist, but not fully, just enough to acknowledge her status. She didn’t seem to mind, just nodding once in reply before sitting beside Lysandra, frowning at the shifter.

“You made your hair shorter.” Aelin’s voice was just as alluring as before, the tones sliding over Rowan’s skin and sending shivers down his spine. He assumed it was due to the sheer amount of her power, calling to his blood, as it would to any Fae male’s.

“Thought it was time for a change.” Lysandra threw back, toying with the dark strands. 

Rowan glanced at Fenrys, sat once again, unsure at what to make of the informal opening of this meeting. Fenrys was just staring at the young queen like a lost pup, until Rowan nudged his side.

“Your Majesty-,” Fenrys started, before being cut off by the Queen.

“Aelin, please,” she said, waving a hand, “titles are boring.”

Lysandra snorted, and looked at Aelin,

“I’ve never met someone with so many titles.” The shifter commented good-naturedly

Aelin gave Lysandra a long-suffering look, flicked the shifter’s nose then turned back to Rowan and Fenrys.

“Aelin, then. My name is Fenrys, and my good companion here,” Rowan scowled at Fenrys, “is Rowan Whitethorn.”

“Prince Rowan Whitethorn?” Aelin asked, brows raising.

So she had heard of him. Likely heard the stories of war and killings, would likely be disgusted by him, and all he’d done. The thought upset him more than it should have.

“The one and only,” Fenrys replied.

Aelin looked at him, nodding as she sucked on a tooth, as if contemplating him, brows still slightly raised. She didn’t look disgusted, or even remotely frightened, as most did when they realised who he was. Aelin just looked at him with vague curiosity, as if sizing up an opponent.   
He met her eyes, and was instantly swimming in the deep pools of turquoise, unable to look away. She had a ring of gold around her pupil, he noticed, classic Ashryver eyes. The gold seemed to flare as he continued to hold her gaze, and something passed between them. A kind of respect, an acknowledgment, an agreement. Of what, he didn’t know. But something in his blood pulled him to this young queen, and he sure as hell didn’t want to find out why.

“Did you really kill someone with a table?” He jolted, shocked, as the queen addressed him.

There was no hint of judgement or condemnation in her gaze, just pure curiosity. 

“Yes.” He replied honestly.

“Classic.” The queen commented, looking at Lysandra, “Aedion will be so happy.”

Rowan had no idea why they were talking about this, but he suppressed a laugh anyway. It had been a while since he’d wanted to laugh. 

“Now,” Aelin went on, suddenly formal, “let’s discuss whatever you came here to discuss.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come talk to me on my Tumblr @booknerdproblems


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovely people! Chapter 5 of Immortals. Hope you enjoy!
> 
> TW: minor swearing

Rowan Whitethorn had decided that the Queen of Terrasen was one of the most infuriating females he had ever had the chance to meet. He could never get a straight answer out of her, and she led them in circles with quick wit and sly comments. Never, in his three hundred years has he ever met someone who could get under his skin that easily. His carefully crafted mask had cracked more than a couple of times during that meeting, and he had no intentions of letting it do so again.

The queen and Fenrys had hit it off almost immediately, throwing lewd comments back and forth until Rowan and Lysandra shared looks of ‘oh gods, there's two of them’ and reminded them of the task at hand.   
Despite himself, he found himself rather inclined to like the shifter, who’s dry humour matched his own, and who’s quick wit and sharp tongue kept them all on their toes. 

After two hours of talking, he and Fenrys had still not been able to get an answer about why they were in Doranelle, but had somehow left thinking they had everything they needed. Now, blinking in the sunlight, he stood beside Fenrys, his anger simmering, magic on edge and very, very frustrated.   
Fenrys himself looked almost starstruck, a small smile on his face. 

“Well,” Fenrys started, “She’s nice.”

Rowan rolled his eyes, the male was obviously half in love with her already. He had to admit, she was attractive. Beautiful, even. With an allure that would draw anybody in she wished. And her eyes. Oceans of flames and embers that would ensnare-

Rowan shook his head. What in Hellas’s burning realm was wrong with him? She was a threat, he had to remind himself. Dangerous, gorgeous, with a knack of pushing all his buttons at once. 

Fenrys and himself had started the walk back to the palace, in silence, processing the meeting that had just transpired, when footsteps sounded behind them, only audible to Fae ears, and a shadow dropped across their path as Aelin Galathynius fell into step beside them. 

“Do you know where I could get some chocolate?” Were her opening words.

Rowan opened his mouth, but promptly closed it, unsure of what to reply.

“Huh?” Fenrys blinked at the queen.

“Chocolate,” she replied, “where can I get some?” 

“There’s a vendor on a street near the palace.” Rowan cut in, regaining his speech. 

Aelin nods, scanning the streets around them. The mountains that surrounded Doranelle were crawling with Maeve’s wild wolves, guarding them from harm. And even then Doranelle was surrounded by rivers, an extra layer of protection. He eyed Aelin curiously, and wondered if she was on edge, a queen of ash and fire in the city of rivers. Yet she walked alone. It was unusual for a noble, much less a royal, to wander the streets without guards, much less in a different territory. 

Fenrys seemed to think so too, saying as much.

Rowan winced, the male had no tact.

Aelin just chuckled, flashing a grin at Rowan as she simply replied,

“I don’t need a guard.”

“There have never been any attempts on your life?” Rowan inquired.

“Of course Prince, but I think I can handle myself, don’t you? Or was watching me train this morning not a good enough indication of my skills?” 

Surprising, that she’d recognized him, but Rowan didn’t so much as blink as he replied,

“You were good enough, I suppose.”

“Is that a challenge, Prince?” Aelin drawled, her voice tightening to something razor sharp.

“It can be whatever you want it to be, Princess.” No matter she was a queen. 

Fenrys’ had a shit-eating grin on his face, eagerly watching the battle of wills. 

“In that case,” Aelin started, “Would you care to spar? We can see if you can live up to that immortal arrogance.” 

“As you wish.”

Rowan could choke the air from her lungs in a heartbeat, but it would be good to see just how much of a threat she posed. Maybe she’d even be a challenge. A fight would be a good indication of her skills, and a good way to relieve some of the tension pent up.

“Good, I’ll send word. Now, however, I am going to get chocolate.” Aelin’s eyes were sparkling with wicked delight as she nodded to both him and Fenrys, veering off down a street leading her to the chocolate vendor. 

Fenrys looked at him, eyebrows raised.

“What?” Rowan asked

“Nothing.” Fenrys chuckled, shaking his head. 

As Rowan made to start walking again, Fenrys threw out a hand to stop him. Looking around, he saw what Fenrys was staring at.

One of the demi-fae younglings had approached Aelin, tapping her legs to get her attention. She was standing in front of the stall selling Doranelle’s produce. The youngling was obviously from the poorer backstreets of Doranelle, his face dirty and clothing tattered. Probably the offspring of a High Fae and one of the demi-fae lurking in the streets. The only respected demi-fae here was Lorcan, and even he had issues with the Fae nobility, regardless of him being the most powerful male of diluted blood, with Rowan as the most powerful pure-blooded Fae. Nobody in the cadre would ever hold it against Lorcan, but some of the less progressive nobility had old views in the subject.

As they watched, the younglings held up a small bowl, with one or two gold pieces glittering in it.

Rowan sucked in a sharp breath, ready to intervene if need be. There were many Fae who would backhand the child for the sheer audacity. As the queen turned and saw the dirty face turned up at her, her face morphed into one of horror and alarm. 

Fenrys tensed, about to run to the child’s aid, when Rowan stopped him with a hand on his wrist.

“Watch.” He murmured to the younger male.

Fenrys looked alarmed, but did as he said and relaxed.

As they watched, Aelin crouched down so she was at the young boy’s level and brushed back a strand of his dirty hair. She reached into her pocket, pulling out a small drawstring pouch. She stood, turning to the vendor next to her. For a moment, Rowan thought she meant to ignore the boy, but she simply turned back to him with a loaf of bread in her hands. She handed the bread to the boy, and emptied the rest of the pouch into his bowl. The gold coins glittered in the afternoon light, and the boy looked up at her with wonder in his expression. 

She smiled at him, and her lips moved, speaking softly to the boy. This far away, it was impossible to hear what she was saying. The boy nodded in response to her words, and she gently took his arm. 

A nasty cut stretched from beneath his shoulder to his elbow, and Rowan started as the skin slowly started to knit back together unnaturally fast. The boy flinched slightly as he munched on his bread, and Aelin stood, stroking his hair as she watched the injury heal. 

The boy said something to her, and she smiled warmly at him, before watching him walk away safely. 

So she could heal. Probably not extensive injuries, from the look of her skill set, but enough for basic battlefield healing. It was likely due to her Ashryver heritage, her mother had been a gifted water-wielder, Rowan remembered. It would be a useful skill in battle.

Aelin had just displayed a willingness to help those who had less in the world, a trait that would not go unnoticed by Maeve, a trait that was unusual for an immortal, and a trait that, above all, made her a good person. She had given up a luxury for herself to help someone with their own basic needs.

As the fiery queen looked around, and spotted Rowan and Fenrys standing there, she went preternaturally still. She held their gazes for a long moment, and he could have sworn the gold in her eyes glowed, as if flames flickered behind them. The space between them went taut with power. The look was a challenge and a judgement as she stared them down. Then, as quickly as it had left, her mortality returned as she gave them a two fingered salute and a wink before she turned away, swaggering further down the cobbled street.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come talk to me on Tumblr @booknerdproblems


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovely people! I just want to say THANK YOU for all your lovely comments and kudos and even just for reading! Here is Chapter Six! This chapter fought me every step of the way so I'm sorry if it's a little stilted. Enjoy! 
> 
> TW: N/A

Rowan thought he might have bitten off a bit more than he could chew, with this fight he’d somehow agreed too. A momentary lapse in judgement, he told himself as he strapped on weapon after weapon. A note had been delivered via street urchin to his door yesterday afternoon,

_Noon, this side of the Cambrian Mountains, both weapons and magic are fair game._

_Don’t be late._

_\- A.A.G_

There was no mistaking who it was from, and Rowan was almost buzzing with bristling energy. The fight should be a piece of cake, he told himself. The only person who came close to beating him was Lorcan, who was two centuries older than him. A twenty-two year old half-Fae half-human female should be a joke in comparison to the wars he’s waged. But something about Aelin Galathynius told him this wasn’t going to be as easy as he’d thought. 

-x-

Indeed, as he approached the base of the mountain in flight, his animal form picked up movement in a wide clearing, and he choked off the winds sharply, falling into a dive.  
He flipped once, and shifted, landing mid-step in the centre of the clearing. The air was humid, but a slight breeze was whispering through the trees, taking the edge of the heat off, perfect conditions for training. Judging by the sun, it was a couple of minutes away from noon, when the fire-bringer was at the height of her power, he realised.  
It only took him a few seconds to take everything in, the few seconds he needed to be on alert. Lysandra, Ren and Aelin had already arrived, along with Fenrys. They were all talking amicably in the centre of the clearing  
The queen was once again in that skintight black suit, which must be stifling in the humidity. She had no visible weapons on her person, but Rowan was willing to bet the suit hid more than a few lethal weapons.  
He started stretched as the young queen looked his way, murmured softly to her companions, then made her way over to him.  
With that insufferable swagger in her gait, she looked arrogant and menacing and brilliant all at once. She came to a halt in front of him and rested her hands on her hips.

“Whitethorn.”

“Galathynius.” He acknowledged.

“Ready?”

“Born ready, Princess.” He didn’t know what it was, but something about this queen brought out his competitive side, and he was ready to win.

Fenrys strode into the centre of the clearing and spoke loudly enough for the spectators to hear.

“Alright, listen up, here are the rules. Magic, fists and weapons are all allowed. Winner is the first to keep the other pinned for more than ten seconds. Keep it contained to the circle, nothing past the tree line or face instant disqualification. No killing, no maiming, no permanent injuries, no branding, no bi-”

“Fen, we get it already!” Aelin cut in over Fenrys, rolling her eyes. Fen. On a nickname basis already? Rowan made a mental note to have a word with the boyo about it, nobody needed to get unnecessarily hurt.  
Fenrys pouted and poked Aelin in the ribs. She hissed and batted his hand away. Fenrys just winked at her before sauntering over to where Connall stood, watching. The cadre, Aelin’s companions, and a few of the Fae stood watching, having arrived swiftly and silently. 

Aelin rolled her shoulders, lowering slightly into a defensive position as her hands curled into fists. Rowan checked his weapons one more time, taking a deep breath to calm the magic itching to be released.  
He met Aelin’s eyes and inclined his head slightly, an invitation, if she was willing to take it. Almost immediately, she went on the offensive, throwing a right hook that he easily blocked and almost immediately countered with an upward punch to her neck. She dodged, and swept out a foot in an attempt to knock his feet out from under him. Sidestepping, he caught her arm and twisted it behind her back, but she used it as leverage to unsteady him, before darting round to his back and kicking the back of his legs. Falling onto one knee, Rowan growled, kicking back. He was on his feet in a second, finally landing a hit to her side. She was quick and fast, making up for her lack of bulky muscle. She had expert technique, and Rowan wouldn’t be surprised if she was secretly an assassin. After a few minutes of cautious jabs and dancing around each other, Aelin finally seemed to get bored and threw herself into a tackle, pinning him to the forest floor.  
He growled irritably, before surging up, his body weight easily flipping them. She struggled underneath him, and he landed a solid to her face, and she leaned her head to the side to spit a wadge of blood onto the mossy floor. Her hands wrapped around his wrists, she smirked and then Rowan was on the other side of the clearing, hands flexing. Hissing in pain, he looked down at his wrists to see minor burns in his skin. Looking back up at the young queen, he growled as she grinned widely, and flicked her wrists. Two lethal looking blades shot out of the suit, and she instantly had one gripped in each hand. Rowan drew his blades, and they met in a clash of light and steel. 

Rowan Whitethorn looked at Aelin Galathynius over the top of their clashed blades and _snarled._

Usually, when Rowan snarled like that, all hell was about to break loose. But Aelin simply laughed in his face, smirking a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. He knew she couldn’t win a test of strength, and smirked at this fact. Smile slipping off of her face, she relinquished the blade and it shot back into her suit as she ducked, missing the next strike of his blade. As she rose, he froze the floor beneath her feet, and sent a sharp gust of wind to knock her off her feet. She stumbled at the wind, but the ice beneath her feet had already melted. Fire encased her blade, and a punch of ruby flame came barreling toward him before Rowan sucked the air out of the flames. He sent a dagger of ice her way, only to meet a burning, circular shield encasing her forearm. Their magic tussled, embers and wind locked in a burning passion of wills. Fire and ice died and melted, only to flare and grow once again. But through it all, he could swear he could feel their magic… playing, almost. Intertwining around each other in a lethal dance, and again, he felt that involuntary tug towards the queen and all that she represented. 

She had a soul of the purest wildfire touched with insanity, ruthless and cunning. Fire that could cleanse, that could forge. Fire that could pillage and destroy. Fire burning so fiercely it could consume anything in its path. This woman… this queen, she could conquer the world. She could rattle stars, if only she dared. 

His distraction had cost him, and he was knocked on his backside by a wave of cobalt flame, spitting sparks of purest gold. In an instant her legs were straddling his ribcage, arms and ankles restrained by bands of orange flame. Rowan sent a gust of wind to knock her off of him, pinning her to the floor with bands of ice encasing her arms and legs. Both Fae struggled and pushed against the restraints, him managing just to get rid of the flame when Fenrys whistled. Time.

Aelin and Rowan both stood, panting heavily as they stared, hostile, at each other. A sort of confusion and curiosity was hidden deep beneath the fighting instincts in Aelin’s eyes, but Rowan ignored it, turning toward Fenrys. 

“So,” Fenrys had a shit-eating grin painted on his face, “you both lost.”

“On the contrary, my dear Fenrys,” Aelin smirked, “I would say we both won.” 

Rowan’s eyes flicked toward the Fire-Bringer, studying her intently. Rowan had been right in saying that, with her magic, she was… incredible. Incredible and deadly.  
As Fenrys and Aelin bickered as though they’d known each other for years, Rowan got a good look at what had been done to the clearing. Chunks of grass had been uprooted, parts of the surrounding bushes scorched or wind-battered. Never, in his three-hundred years had he encountered someone who could hold their own against him for as long as she had, save for maybe Lorcan. 

“Rowan!” Fenrys’ voice cut through his thoughts, “We’re going for drinks, you coming?” 

His arm was slung over Aelin’s shoulders. 

Rowan’s eyes were fixed on Aelin’s as he replied to Fenrys, “Maybe some other time, Fen.”

He stayed in that clearing for long after everyone left, looking up at the stars.

-x-

Rowan was achy, and tired, as he flew back to Doranelle well after nightfall. Even though all was peaceful, he still completed a quick security check as he flew back to the small suite of rooms he owned. The guards were all at their posts, Queen Maeve was safely in her rooms, doing… whatever it was she did. The noble’s carriages had all dispersed for the night, and the water was still peacefully rushing around Doranelle.  
He wondered whether Aelin had felt the same tug he’d felt. He wondered what she thought of that fight. He wondered whether she’d felt the same exhilaration he’d felt when their magic had intertwined.  
On a whim, he flew past the Terrasanien’s quarters, and instantly wished he hadn’t, faltering mid-flight. Because pressed up against a wall, mouths locked and hands roaming was Fenrys Moonbeam and Aelin Ashryver Galathynius, Queen of Terrasen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come talk to me on Tumblr @booknerdproblems


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovely people! I am sorry for the later-than-usual update, my week has been seriously hectic. It’s involved medical collapses, panic attacks and sleepovers. Due to this, this chapter is 100% my least favourite, and it’s unedited. I do, however, have the chapter after this written, so I will not be late with the next update!
> 
> TW: minor swearing

The next time Rowan saw Aelin Galathynius was two days later, in the throne room of Maeve’s stone palace. He was giving his report alongside Lorcan when she swept into the room and walked right up to Maeve. Without even a hint of a bow, she announced she was to visit Mistward, one Doranelle’s demi-fae outposts the other side of the Cambrian Mountains. Rowan liked Mistward, the people were down-to-earth and friendly, if a little intimidated by him. At least they weren’t snivelling nobility. 

Apparently, her mother had spent some time there in her youth, fighting for demi-fae rights, and Aelin wished to visit the fortress she had heard much about. It seemed Evalin Ashryver had never had the chance to go back before her untimely death last year.

The Lord of Allsbrook and Lady Lysandra were to remain in Doranelle, and Aelin had set up meetings with Maeve’s foreign trade advisor for her entourage, and they were going to meet whilst she attended to her personal business. 

Maeve had then promptly ordered Rowan to go with her to Mistward, to which Aelin had waved off, not needing an escort.   
“I must insist. I can’t let my favourite niece wander the forest alone now, can I?” Maeve had replied with a snake’s smile. Rowan had no idea what Maeve’s ulterior motives   
were, but wasn’t about to ask any time soon.

Fenrys was on his way to Varese, so would accompany them for the first part of the journey. Rowan was deeply looking forward to this journey, it would be the best fucking highlight of his life. Two equally arrogant, swaggering fae who were currently in the business of bedding each other at every turn. Truly, Rowan couldn’t wait.   
Rowan hadn’t been able to look Fenrys in the eye for two days after The Incident, until he finally got over himself and confronted the male about it. Fenrys had chuckled, clapped him on the shoulder, winked, and walked off without a word. So, Rowan thought it went well enough. It had been a sharp slap in the face, a reminder that he was a broken, centuries-old warrior, blood sworn to another queen. It had reminded him of what the tattoo covering his left side stood for. The shame he’d carry until his last breath. And Aelin, she was a young queen, a dreamer who was good for her people and the world. She was a gift to the world, even if she was arrogant and swaggering and slightly disrespectful. Gods, he couldn’t stand her contradictions. One moment she was kind and compassionate, helping a Doranelle youngling, and making his head spin, the next she was arrogant and rude addressing his queen and still making his head spin. 

-x-

Waiting on one of Doranelle’s many bridges, Rowan traced the route in his head. He went through the comforting, familiar motions of securing his weapons and checking his food and water rations whilst he waited for Fenrys and the queen. Unsurprisingly, they were late.

A quarter of an hour later, Rowan spotted them in the distance. The queen was carrying a pack with a bedroll, for the two day trek to Mistward. He wondered how she would react to sleeping exposed to the elements, she was royalty afterall. 

Fenrys’ blonde hair was up in a bun, a dark green tunic clinging to his body, complementing his bronze skin.

Once they’d reached him, he simply nodded in approval and turned toward the mountains, leading the way.

-x-

Two and a half hours later, Fenrys at last broke the silence that enveloped the three. 

“So, are you going to be okay with sleeping out in the wild like this?” He addressed Aelin.

“Aw, are you worried about me?” Aelin’s tone was teasing.

Fenrys scowled, “Well, have you ever slept outdoors before?”

“Of course I’ve slept outdoors, who do you think I am?”

“Uh, the- the Queen of Terrasen?”

“Fair point.” Aelin conceded, “But yes, I’ve slept on a bedroll before. Every summer, as the winter’s in Terrasen are too cold, me and my cousin Aedion do a three day hiking trip in the Staghorns, hunting and drinking ourselves half to death.”

Fenrys laughed, the sound light and carefree. “Reminds me of Connall and myself.”

“Yes well, Aedion is practically my brother anyways.”

“He’s bloodsworn to you, is he not?” Rowan cut in, curiosity getting the better of him.

“He is, swore it at my coronation last year.” Aelin looked surprised at his question.

“And he was okay with you both out in the wild without a guard?” Rowan’s tone was slightly judgemental, and Aelin frowned.

“Aedion knows better than to try and keep me locked up, I’d just break out and kill him myself.” Her voice was filled with fondness as she spoke of her bloodsworn.

“Couldn’t you just order him too through the blood oath?” Fenrys asked.

“Why the fuck would I do that? It’d take the fun out of everything.”

“He is your bloodsworn, though, so surely he has to do as you say?”

Aelin stumbled, looking toward Fenrys.

“Aedion is not some slave I order to do my bidding,” her voice was razor-sharp, “swearing the blood oath is a promise of respect and loyalty, not blind devotion. The orders I give him are his to do as he pleases, and should he wish to be free of his oath, he may do so at his earliest convenience. I neither can, nor do I even want to have people forced to serve me, and anyone who chooses to indeed follow me is valued and respected as their own individual within my court.”

Fenrys was looking at Aelin with a new sort of respect, and perhaps a hint of longing behind his eyes. Not longing for her, but for what position she could offer him in life. Indeed, Rowan’s own image of the young queen was constantly evolving, and her declaration had him smiling a little. He could imagine her court in the future, a band of nobility and commoners, standing strong against any threat to their immortal queen. Happy to serve, free to do as they please. A court to change the world. Dreamers, the lot of them.

She truly was the opposite of Maeve.

Nobody had spoken, but Aelin gave them a little smirk, and said,

“Anyway, nobody in their right mind could get past them.” She gestured to the surrounding forest, and Rowan sucked in a sharp breath at what he now noticed.

“The Little Folk,” Fenrys breathed from behind him.

Small figures, dryads and imps and pixies, all dancing through the trees silently.   
Come to greet the Heir of Brannon. Perhaps they wondered after their kin in Terrasen, maybe had come to honour her Ashryver lineage or greet her as a descendant of Mab. Rowan had only caught glimpses of them in the past, they rarely ever revealed themselves. But here they were, murmuring to the Queen of Terrasen. And she… Aelin was whispering back.   
Rowan had never heard of people talking to the Little Folk, but here was Aelin Galathynius, murmuring to them as if they were old friends.   
She was speaking so softly, even Rowan’s sharp Fae ears had trouble hearing them. A winding ribbon of flame was dancing among them and the Little Folk suddenly receded, chattering amongst themselves. Looking back, Rowan started as he saw the Queen of Terrasen. A purple and blue flower crown sat upon her golden hair, and a delicate bracelet of acorns, daisies and thistles was upon her wrist. She was smiling softly, and Rowan’s breath was momentarily knocked from him.

Her eyes held a warm, content glow and embers seemed to light up her irises. Her golden hair was floating in the wind, and a truly happy smile sat upon her lips. Her cheeks held a light blush and in that moment, she looked truly beautiful. 

Shaking it off, he looked at Fenrys and immediately glowered. The male’s eyes were on his and his eyebrows were raised as if to say ‘really?’ and his eyes had an amused, knowing gleam. 

Turning back to the route, Rowan’s scowl remained for the rest of the afternoon, glaring at all the trees as if they’d personally offended him.

-x-

As they’d stopped for the night, Rowan had appreciated the queen’s quick, efficient way of setting up camp.   
He did, however, hear her grumbling to Fenrys as she laid down on her bedroll for the night, set up next to but an appropriate distance away from the other male’s.

“Just because I’m used to these conditions, doesn’t mean I have to like them.” She was whining as Rowan rolled his eyes.

A pause then, “Rowan Whitethorn I can hear your eyes rolling right now.” 

“Sure you can, Princess.” Rowan replied.

“I can!” Aelin protested, “and I’m serious. I would kill for a hot bath and one of my silk nightgowns right now.” 

Fenrys whispered something in her pointed ear that made the temperature spike and earned him a punch to the arm. 

Rowan rolled his eyes again so hard it hurt his brain, before rolling over and closing his eyes.

-x-

Waking with a jolt the next morning, Rowan found Aelin already awake, in her human form, whilst Fenrys was still snoring on the other side of mossy clearing. 

“Morning,” he grunted.

Aelin just grumbled, raking her hands through her hair, wincing as her fingers caught on the tangles. 

“Not a morning person?” Rowan chuckled as she levelled a glare at him.

Rowan just walked over to wake Fenrys up, telling Aelin to start packing up.

-x-

An hour later, Fenrys had pulled Aelin into a quick hug, murmuring goodbye as he separated for the way to Varese. 

He saluted Rowan, receiving a roll of pine-green eyes in his response, before vanishing into nothing, leaving Rowan and Aelin in the middle of Wendlyn’s forests, staring at each other. 

Rowan broke first, raking his hand through ruffled silver hair and sighing. 

“Mistward is twenty miles away. I’m not in the mood to spend the next eight hours walking. Shift, and let's go. We’re running.” He gave her a feral grin, canines exposed.

Aelin narrowed her eyes at the commanding tone, but started to braid her waist-length hair at the base of her head. Rowan secured his pack as a flash of light indicated her shifting. Gods, she really was gorgeous. And her beauty was heightened in her Fae form, her ears delicately pointed and canines lengthened. She moved with ethereal grace, and everything seemed to revolve around her. Too bad he could barely stand her, even if he’d felt a… shift, in their relationship since they sparred. Since he’d felt their magic dancing around each other. Since he’d begun to see her as more of an… equal.

He didn’t exactly know where he stood with the young Queen of Terrasen, sometimes she acted like his mortal enemy, sometimes she just seemed like an overly-excitable acquaintance with mild pestering tendencies.

Aelin finished tying her braid, bracing her hands on her hips and smirking at him, arrogance back in full swing. Rowan nodded once at her, and took off.

He raced through the trees, dodging boulders and leaping fallen logs as the world blurred around him. The forest was so alive, all the plants and animals coming together to create its own kind of magic, a circle of life and death and rebirth. The wind whipped through his hair, and his arms pumped harder as he sprinted, a thin sheen of sweat starting to break out upon his skin.

Rowan looked sideways, and spotted a blur of gold through the trees a little way away from him. Aelin met his gaze, and grinned at him in the pure, unbridled joy that came with pushing your Fae body to the limits. The scents and tastes of the world around him were so exhilarating, and he felt nothing could compare to the feeling. He smiled back at the young demi-fae, and felt, almost, less alone. Maybe, just maybe, a friendship could be possible between the two. For the first time in a long, long while, Rowan felt… hopeful. Like he could look forward to tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come talk to me on Tumblr @booknerdproblems


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovely people, here is chapter 8 of immortals. This chapter is kind of rushed, so I apologise for the below average chapter. Its long and I’m not happy with it, but I’m going to post it anyway. Unfortunately, I am going on holiday by Monday 3rd, so I won’t be able to update for about another three weeks! Unless I somehow go on a writing spree this weekend. I should be able to write on holiday, however, so I will update as soon as I can!

Rowan’s shirt was slick with sweat, and he was panting heavily. He and Aelin had just reached the edge of the treeline, with Mistward just visible from where they stood. After running twenty miles, Rowan had stopped, giving them both time to recuperate before entering the demi-fae fortress. Taking a long drink of the water skin he’d brought with him, he silently passed Aelin a hunk of bread, that she promptly tore into.   
He sliced another piece for himself, then grimaced. He preferred bread toasted. It was one of his few food requirements. But, he was a warrior. He could, and would, eat the fucking bread. He let out a sigh, and raised it to his mouth. All of a sudden, he felt warmth seeping into his hands. Rowan looked down, and sure enough, he was holding a perfectly toasted slice of bread. He looked up at Aelin in surprise, to have her shaking with barely suppressed laughter. 

“You. Prince Rowan Whitethorn, are picky about bread.”

Rowan willed his cheeks not to redden as he met her gaze, her turquoise eyes filled with mirth.

“As if you're any better, Miss Where-Is-My-Hot-Bath?”

Aelin let out a short burst of laughter and lamely threw a twig at him, “That’s Queen Where-Is-My-Hot-Bath thank you very much.”

“My apologies, Majesty.”

“Not at all, Highness.”

Rowan rolled his eyes, flashing her a grin. It felt nice, to have someone who he could throw anything at, and they’d just throw it right back at him. He hadn’t had that with someone in a long time. Everyone had always been too intimidated, if not outwardly afraid of him. 

“What's your favourite food, anyways?” Aelin asked him, a curious expression on her face as she chewed on her food.

“I suppose yours is some useless piece of confection.”

“Sweets aren’t useless!” Aelin protested, “and why would you say that?”

“That time in Doranelle, after our initial meeting” Rowan replied, “you were looking for some chocolate but you gave away the money to that youngling instead.”

Aelin’s face suddenly dropped, so Rowan hastily continued, “and they are useless, they don’t benefit your body at all.”   
“So you only eat things that benefit your body’s health?” Aelin’s face was screwed up in distaste, “they aren’t supposed to benefit you, they’re just nice to eat!”

Rowan grunted, and Aelin continued, “So you don’t have a favourite food?”

“There’s a vendor in Doranelle who sells meat on a stick.”

“Meat. On a stick.” 

Rowan nodded once in confirmation.

There was a pause, then Aelin burst into laughter. Real, genuine laughter. The kind that made your belly ache and cheeks hurt. Rowan hadn’t seen someone laugh like that in a long time. In Doranelle, it was all affected laughs and polite chuckles. But not this. Tears started forming at the edge of her eyes, and her mirth made Rowan start to smile. She took a couple of deep breaths, then was off into another peal of giggles. It made her seem… young. Innocent. Carefree. Even if that couldn’t be further from the truth.

After a while, she calmed down enough to talk to him. Rowan’s eyebrows were halfway up his forehead, and he was giving her his best unimpressed gaze. Still, his lips were twitching.   
She stared at him until he finally broke,

“It’s really good!” He almost whined as she started laughing again.

“I’m sure it is, buzzard. You’ll have to show me when we get back to Doranelle, although,” she frowned, “I really should be leaving soon after we return.” 

“Buzzard?”

Aelin shrugged, “It suits you.”

But her reply settled in him, show me. He had no business taking her anywhere beyond what his queen required of him. She was a powerful foreign queen, a threat, a danger to his monarch and his people. And Rowan could not let himself forget that. Even- even if, for a moment, the icy walls around his heart had begun to melt.

-x-

As they approached Mistward, Rowan could see the door to the kitchen’s open. He led Aelin down to the door, as he was sure she wasn’t one for an official entrance. He walked through the door, and was hit with the roar of the fire and the smell of fresh bread. There were three males in the kitchen, two of whom Rowan knew the names of. Emrys, the fortress’ cook, his mate, Malakai, the head of the guards, and a young demi-fae who he’d seen working in the kitchens before.   
As Aelin walked in behind him, and shook off her hood, for it had started to rain, a barely audible gasp came from Emrys. Rowan walked further into the kitchen to watch this scene unfold. 

As soon as the demi-fae showed the slightest hints of bowing, Aelin immediately waved them off, a small smile playing about her lips as she stuck out her hand. 

“Hello. I’m Aelin.” Was all she said as the chef shook her hand. A human custom, he assumed. 

“Yes, Your Majesty, I’m-” was all the male got out before Aelin interrupted, 

“Just Aelin, please.” 

Emrys nodded, and introduced himself and his husband, as well as the young male, Luca, who turned scarlet when Aelin nodded to him. 

After a couple of minutes of polite chatting, Emrys said, 

“I was distraught to hear of Eval- your mother’s passing last year. She spent a year here in her youth, not that She was a good woman and an even better friend. ”

“She spoke so highly of you both, always telling me stories of her friends at Mistward.” 

Emrys smiled at that, squeezing Aelin’s arm. “Did you ever find out who killed them?”

Aelin tensed just slightly, her breathing barely hitching before she replied, “I have a few theories.” 

Rowan looked up at that, eyebrows pinching before smoothing into an unreadable expression. 

Emrys simply nodded gravely, and started telling a story involving the late Evalin Ashryver, a sponge, a misunderstanding, and a male from the East. 

-x-

After two hours, Luca was tasked with showing Aelin to her rooms, Rowan already knowing his way around. Aelin was given the finest guest room they owned, complete with its own private bathing chamber, despite her protests. He supposed she could finally enjoy a hot bath.

As Rowan settled into bed that night, he realised how exhausted he was. His dreams that night were filled with musical laughter and swirls of embers, laced with the soothing scent of jasmine. 

-x-

The next morning, Rowan headed down to the kitchens to see how he might be of service before he had to accompany the queen back to Doranelle, he stopped short, blinking. Standing next to Luca, chopping potatoes, was Aelin. The Queen of Terrasen. In a kitchen. Performing duties assigned to a scullery maid. It was barely dawn. She was laughing the same laugh that had haunted his dreams all night, before they had turned to screams and Rowan had woken with a start, sweating.

Three hours later, Rowan had just finished checking the fortress’s magical defenses when the scent of jasmine, lemon verbena and crackling embers filled his nose. He lifted the hem of his shirt, wiping his face clear of sweat before lowering it and looking at Aelin. He tried not to notice how her eyes lingered on his bare abdomen for a split second before they snapped up to him. She was dressed casually in a billowing white shirt tucked into high-waisted, tight black trousers and polished, finely-made boots. Her hands were on her hips and she was frowning slightly.

“You wanna show me the sights?” She said.

Rowan frowned at her and cocked his head.

“Is there anything notable around here? Anything cool? Anywhere exciting I can still tell people I’ve been in two hundred years?”

“Well, The Sun Godess’s temple, Bald Mountain’s lake and the healer’s compound.” Rowan listed off a few of the sights, as she called them.

“Bald Mountain near enough to be back for dinner?” She asked.

“Sure, Princess. Let’s go.”

-x-

A little way into their trek to the mountain, Rowan’s memory caught on something Aelin had mentioned earlier.

“Two hundred years? So you’re confirmed to Settle?” 

Settling was the long, painful process a Fae went through in their youth, that froze their body into immortality. Rowan had settled when he was twenty-four, and only had hazy, pain-filled memories of the ordeal. 

“Nothing is confirmed, but it’s always been predicted, and I think with my amount of power, it would be natural for me to settle.” It wasn’t a boast, just a simple fact of her power. 

“Do you want to settle?” A harmless question, Rowan thought.

“I used to. Still do, in some ways. In other ways.. no.”

“What changed?” Now that was a dangerous question.

“I did.”

Rowan didn’t push any further, simply nodding and letting out a breath, happy to trek the rest of the way in silence.

-x-

A great lake stretched into the gloom before him, the mountain protecting it from the harsh glare of the sun. 

“We’re here.” Rowan stated dumbly.

“I can see that, surprisingly. It’s almost like we aren’t under a giant mountain facing a giant underground lake.” Aelin’s voice, laced with sass, echoed around the chamber, and Rowan watched as she walked over to one of the walls, trailing her hand over the age-old stone. 

“You think the creature is still in there?” Aelin spoke again.

“What?”

“Oh come on, the supposed one-eyed creature that lives in the lake, killed by Athril, your queen’s supposed former lover? You know, Goldryn was his sword. It’s the most famous bedtime story in Terrasen, aside from maybe a couple about Brannon.”

Rowan frowned, before the memory of the story resurfaced. 

“I shouldn’t think so, the story was probably invented by some traveller.”

“At least we’ll have this to defend us,” with a wicked smirk, Aelin withdrew her hand from where it had been rooting around in some nook. Clasped in her hand, was a gleaming golden sword, the ruby in it’s hilt gleaming like a small sun. 

“Goldryn.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come talk to me on tumblr @booknerdproblems


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who's back! It's me, surprise!!!! Anyways, thank you guys so much because we are almost at 2000 hits!! Thanks to all of you who kudos, comment, or just read! All of you are amazing! Here is chapter 9, which starts off right where we left it, with Aelin and Rowan having just found Goldryn. The plot is starting to weave in here, but I'm a little rusty at this so forgive me if I make some inconsistencies or errors! From here on out we shall also start building on some major Rowaelin, so here we go!

“Still think the story isn’t real, buzzard?” 

Rowan just grumbled and cast a furtive look toward the lake, the water flat and undisturbed, then back at the gleaming golden sword in Aelin’s hands.

“Come on, Princess, lets go. Wouldn’t want to anger the supposed rabid lake monster. Though perhaps you’d enjoy carving out its other eye.”

Aelin threw him a wicked grin, before looking at Goldryn thoughtfully and buckling it onto her belt. 

-x-

They arrived back at Mistward under the cover of darkness, slipping quietly through the kitchen door.  
The fortress’s residents were all gathered by the roaring fire in the hearth, and Emrys was telling a tale to the demi-face about a past ruler of Wendlyn.

Rowan headed over to the worktop, where huge vats of potatoes and meat and vegetables were being kept warm. 

He filled up his plate, Aelin doing the same beside him. He retreated to the back steps to eat, listening as Emrys finished up his story.

Aelin had balanced her piled plate on her knees, but was examining Goldryn’s scabbard. As Rowan watched, she seemed to find something hidden deep in the scabbard. A look of shock overcame her features, before smoothing over hastily.

Looking his way, she met his eyes and her eyes narrowed for a heartbeat, before returning to her food, shovelling it down quickly. Rowan studied her for a couple of heartbeats, then returning to his own food.

-x-

The next morning, Rowan flew up to the battlements to check on the guards. He shifted, landing mid-step, and the watch stood a little straighter, the slight tang of fear coating his senses. It bothered him more than it had in the past.

Malakai had done a good job of organising the fortress defences, so Rowan only asked a couple of questions before looking out into the forest. 

The forest seemed endless, stretching over the distant mountains that dominated the horizon. Rowan had spent long hours gazing at those mountains. He sometimes wondered what he’d been thinking, taking the blood oath to Maeve. He’d been so lost in grief and guilt. But still, he’d never stopped wondering, even after taking the oath, just what was over that mountain, what was beyond that horizon. He couldn’t forgive the male whose story was tattooed over his side, but he could forgive the male who’d been so lost in loss that a blood oath had been the best option. Rowan was a warrior, at heart. He could adapt, adjust. He would. For Lyria. Even if he’d been damn trying to adapt ever since.

A flicker of light caught his eye, and he turned, blinking himself out of his reverie. There, just beyond the boundary of the ward-stones, was Aelin. Training, by the looks of it. She sent walls of flame at the barrier that deflected back to her before she shielded, holding her ground. Arrows and daggers and swords of pure blue flame flew everywhere, and she managed to dodge. Every . Single. One. She fought like she had something burning inside of her, something that was just begging to be unleashed. Maybe she did.

Rowan didn’t know what to make of it. She was a Queen. But yet she still made an effort to train and fight with all she could. Aelin had so much fight in her he often wondered how she didn’t raze Orynth to the ground anytime she was royally pissed off. She could, he knew. If she wanted to. She could burn the world to ashes, if she wished it. She could start the world over. The thought didn’t scare him as much as it should have.

Aelin had been trained from a young age, if she could move with such surety, likely by the Fae that resided in Terrasen. 

Even from her birth, whispers and rumours had reached across the sea. A weapon of war, they’d whispered. Aelin Fireheart. The young girl with the heart of wildfire. Unpredictable, raging, fierce. Beautiful, but dangerous.

Aelin was young, yes, but she felt old. Her power felt vast and ancient, yes, but in her soul. Her eyes seemed to peer into his very soul, and they often seemed endlessly sad. She played the game well. Too well, for someone who hadn’t had centuries to hone the craft. She was a major player in the game of realms. 

Rowan shifted, soaring into flight. As he approached Aelin, she made no indication she’d noticed him. He shifted, landing behind her and drawing his sword in one motion. 

He brought his sword down, and she whirled.

Their blades met with a clash that echoed into his bones. She grinned a wicked smirk, and her eyes were alight with the challenge.  
She relinquished the hold, ducking as his sword sailed over her head. She swiped at his feet, and he stepped back.  
They ducked and twirled around each other, flipping and swiping as they went. He almost had her pinned when she gave a surge of energy, beating him back. He met her blow for blow, going on the defensive.  
Aelin’s power surged, and she sent plumes of flame at him, and he sent gust of ice-kissed wind right back.  
With a powerful kick, she sent him stumbling back, and he used his own power to fill his lungs.  
She tackled him, pinning Rowan’s rib cage to the ground with her thighs, and his feet and hands were restrained with bands of golden flame.  
Aelin’s braid fell over one shoulder as she leaned over him, elongated canines exposed in a snarl. They were both panting heavily, and Rowan was almost ready to give her the win when he moved.  
Bringing his hands down, he flipped them so she was under him, his gamble paying off. The flame had no real heat, it was just light. They were training, it wasn’t a real fight to the death. Her wrists were restrained with bands of ice, and she struggled for a minute before giving up and staring into his face. She was panting heavily, and so was he, his chest heaving as he calmed.

Aelin’s eyes narrowed. 

_In a fair fight, I’d’ve won that._ She seemed to say.

 _That’s not much incentive for me to fight fair._ He grinned.

She just reached up and flicked his nose.

“How’d you just get out of that handcuff?” He said, clambering off her.

“Little trick called dislocating your thumbs.”

“You could have just melted it.”

“And risk melting my own hand off?”

Rowan rolled his eyes, hauling himself to his feet. Aelin came up beside him as he strode toward the fortress.

“I won that.”

“Sure you did, Princess. Sure.” 

Her complaints continued all the way back to the kitchens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come talk to me on Tumblr @booknerdproblems


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovely people! Here’s chapter 10 of immortals. I just want to thank you all for all the lovely comments and messages I’ve been sent, they always inspire me to write more and more! I meant to have this up yesterday, but my mental health took a downturn, so I’m sorry for the delay!
> 
> I’m a little nervous to post this chapter, I’ve had this written for AGES so I’ve tweaked it so many times and shuffled around in the order of things. It’s an important chapter for Aelin and Rowan, so I’ve tried my very hardest to do it justice. I hope you guys enjoy!

Rowan peered out of the small window in his room, taking in the hills and the stars. A little way out, a lone silhouette stood, staring up at the stars. He squinted, the figure far enough that even his Fae eyesight had trouble making out who it was. Aelin. He sent a breeze to open his window, shifting and flying out into the darkness.  
The crisp night air was cool against his feathers, and he took deep lungfuls of it, clearing his mind as he flew. Rowan reached for the soothing wash of his magic, steering the winds towards that lone figure. 

-x-

Rowan shifted into mid-step a little way away, making sure his footfalls alerted her to his presence. 

Rowan sat down next to Aelin, not touching, a healthy distance away, and looked up at the stars. She didn’t so much as acknowledge his presence, just remained gazing up at the stars. He couldn’t help but notice a slight sheen over her eyes, which were red rimmed, but he didn’t comment. 

After endless minutes, she broke the silence.

“There,” she pointed to a star, “The stag, the Lord of the North. So the people of Terrasen will always know how to find the way home. So they can look up at the sky, no matter where they are, and know that Terrasen is forever with them.”

“What’s Terrasen like?”

“Beautiful.” Aelin smiled softly. Open. Slightly vulnerable. “Snow always covers the Staghorns, but Oakwald forest is warm in the summer. Little folk are everywhere, but very few ever really see them. Orynth is filled with markets where you can buy almost anything. Merchants come from lands far and wide to sell their goods in Orynth.” The queen’s face had gone almost wistful, melancholy, her eyes unfocused as she talked about her homeland.

“You really love it.” 

Aelin looked at him with a bemused look on her face, “Of course. Terrasen is my home.” 

“I’d love to see it one day.”

“Then we’ll just have to make that happen.”

Rowan looked at the queen with wildfire in her soul, and all of a sudden, felt very old. He wasn’t particularly old by the standards of the Fae, but looking at this queen with her dreams for the world, he felt as old as Brannon, the first King of Terrasen. He’d once dreamed like that too, with Lyria. Until his dreams had gone and shattered right in front of his eyes. His fault. 

Yet something about Aelin made him think that maybe, just maybe, she’d seen the worst this world had to offer, and yet she still hadn’t broken. She still dreamed.

She smiled faintly at him, and there was such heaviness in her eyes. She had the weight of a kingdom on her shoulders, yet she didn’t buckle under the weight. She was so young, much too young to have the burden on her shoulders. Her parents had been assassinated when she was twenty, he remembered. Her uncle, King Orlon, had died the year after. Aelin had had her kingdom thrust upon her much earlier than she must of planned.

He didn’t know what made him start talking, but he did, perhaps wanting someone, anyone to understand,

“When I was young, I mated a female of our race. She was a flower girl in one of the markets. She was beautiful, and kind, and I knew instantly she was my mate. Within a year, we had courted and mated, and we had a small house up in the mountains. But I was young, and still yearned to prove myself. When war knocked on Doranelle’s doorstep, Maeve found me, and gave me a place to serve. As one of her commanders. It was my chance, as a young male, to prove myself. My mate begged me not to go, but I didn’t listen. I went, won the war, and came back, proud of my victory. The house was burned to the ground, her with it. And the scent around it, a child. I left her. I left my pregnant mate alone.”

Rowan finally looked up, meeting Aelin’s extraordinary eyes. Only understanding and sorrow lay there. No disgust, no pity. So he continued.

“So I shifted, and I hunted down the men who’d done that to her. A band of rogues. For fifty years, I went mad. When you lose a mate… you don’t come back from that sort of loss. I stayed in my hawk form, only eating when my body demanded it. Until Maeve tracked me down, said I was better off serving in her court. So I took the blood oath, and haven’t let myself look back since.”

Aelin was looking at him with a new sort of understanding, a small, sad smile on her lips.

“What was her name?”

Rowan tensed. He hadn’t said her name aloud in over one hundred and fifty years. But it would be a shame if the world forgot about her. If he never said it again. 

“Lyria,” he breathed.

Aelin nodded, looking back up at the stars. After a moment, she seemed to decide something, and turned slightly toward him.

“My parents were killed in an ambush on a diplomatic visit to Adarlan. I was supposed to go with them, but I stayed at the last moment because I’d pissed off some lord who I needed to sign an education policy. Nobody knew I was to stay behind.” 

A pause, as if gathering herself, “Afterwards, I was so stricken with grief, Orlon sent me to Adarlan on a ‘break from politics’. Dorian, the Crown Prince at the time, is one of my close friends, as well as his then Captain of the Guard, now Hand to the King, Chaol Westfall. I’m sure you know that Dorian became king just two months ago, compared to my year ago.” 

Rowan nodded, confirming he knew this.

“Well, whilst in Adarlan, I met a boy named Sam. I was a little reckless in my grief, and frequently visited some of the… less reputable taverns in Rifthold. Ever since I was eight, I’d been trained by some of the Fae in Terrasen, so I could handle myself. One day, some of the men had me backed into a corner. Sam saw what they were doing, and came to my aid immediately. Thing was, there were six of them, and only one of him. So, as good a fighter as he was, he was going to get pummelled to death. So, I shifted, and didn’t even start to throw a punch before they were scurrying off. That's how I met him. He introduced me to Lysandra, and we were fast friends. Sam helped me through my parents’ death’s, spending as much time as we could together. And somewhere along the way, we fell in love. Didn’t mean to, but it happened, and it was the best weeks of my life. Even from a young age, I had always been seen as either a weapon, or some simpering princess to be manipulated. Sam saw me as a person. Not some terrible tool of destruction, nor some weakling royal. He just saw me as me. We had a few perfect weeks together, until, rumour somehow got around that Aelin Galathynius was in Rifthold. And a man named Arobynn Hamel found out. See, Sam was an assassin. Not by any fault of his own, he was born into it. He was good and kind and reminded me of all things good in the world. But Hamel decided that he wanted to meet me. So he got it in his head to keep Sam hostage, one of his spies had reported back to him about our relationship. But I had been called back to the Glass Castle, so I’d had to leave notice via one of the street urchins that I wasn’t going to be able to meet with Sam that day. Until the messenger came back to me, with Sam nowhere to be found. Sam was tortured for two days before I finally found him. But he was losing blood fast, and he died in my arms before I could get him to safety.”

“What happened to the men who did it?”

“I slit Arobynn’s throat and left him to choke to death in his own blood. The men who’d actually done it,” she paused, “I left in pieces in an alleyway, then burned their remains to ashes.”

“Good.”

Aelin looked up at him, blinking at his reply. 

“Many people would say I’m a monster for what I did to those men.”

“If you’re a monster, I’m a monster,” Rowan peeled his lip back to reveal his elongated canines.

Aelin laughed shakily, smiling at him slightly. It was amazing. She was amazing. That she could have been through so much and still laugh and smile and stand strong. She had triumphed. And in that moment, Rowan, for the first time in over two hundred years, didn’t feel alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come talk to me on tumblr @booknerdproblems


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovely people! Welcome to the next chapter of Immortals! Okay so, I love this chapter. Mainly because it’s just a whole bunch of Rowaelin trash. Hope you enjoy!!

Aelin and Rowan had to leave Mistward in four days. In two days, it was Beltane. Rowan usually just drunk an abnormal amount of wine and rooted out pickpockets on the revelling streets of Doranelle. At Mistward, he was to join the celebrations. Fae and part Fae alike came from far and wide to Mistward to celebrate.   
He could tell Aelin was looking forward to it, it was Fire Night after all. After their talk the other night, they’d been sparring and training every afternoon, and Rowan had learnt to enjoy Aelin’s sharp wit and snarky comments. He would even say they could almost be… friends. 

They were currently both standing in the kitchens in front of a very nervous looking Emrys and Malakai, slightly on edge.

Emrys was wringing his hands, and Malakai looked slightly awkward taking in the two of them.   
Aelin was giving him sidelong glances, as if trying to gauge if he knew what this was about. He gave her a slight shake of his head in answer. 

After a moment of more pacing, Emrys spoke.

“Prince, Aelin. It’s Beltane in two days, as you know, and Mistward hosts festivities for all those who want to attend.”

Aelin nodded, but Rowan just waited for the blow to fall.

“Thing is, uh. Malakai?”

Malakai glared at his mate, and they seemed to have a stare off before Emrys sighed and continued,

“At Mistward, all the rooms are usually doubled up to accommodate the amount of people travelling here. But uh-“

Aelin cut in, “just say it.”

“With you two taking up our biggest rooms, we cannot fit everyone in the rooms. So. Uh. I know it’s against all protocol, and normal procedure, especially considering both of your ranks, but it would be- helpful, to say the least, if you two could, possibly, share one room?”

Aelin and Rowan just stood there in silence for a heartbeat.

“Of course, we can provide a separate bedroll for one of you, but unfortunately there are no spare cots.”

There was a moment of dead silence, then Aelin burst into laughter.

-x-

Emrys and Malakai were smiling nervously at Aelin as she doubled over laughing. Rowan closed his eyes for a heartbeat, took a breath, then opened them. He shot Aelin a disapproving look, but couldn’t help it as his lips twitched upward slightly. 

“I thought someone had died! Gods I thought it was bad. Oh gods.” Aelin still couldn’t stop and Rowan rolled his eyes.

Looking back at Emrys and Malakai, he said in his best reassuring voice, “of course it’s fine, don’t worry about it. This one,” he nodded at Aelin, still giggling uncontrollably, “has no sense of decorum or protocol anyway.”

Emrys smiled sheepishly at his poor attempt at humour. Aelin, however, whacked him on the arm and frowned, finally halting her laughter.

“I’ll have you know, I’m the consummate portrait of royal grace.”

“Oh absolutely. My sincere apologies to Your Most Graceful Majesty, if I have offended your delicate sensibilities.”

“Asshole,” Aelin muttered, rolling her eyes, but threw him a grin.

-x-

That evening, Rowan had moved all his clothes and weapons into Aelin’s room, and frowned at the bed. It wasn’t tiny, but it wasn’t huge. He sighed, knowing the proper thing to do was sleep on the bedroll. Still, he wasn’t keen on sleeping on the floor every night. Walking into the adjacent bathroom, he headed to the sink and splashed some water on his face and neck.

“You know, if you wanted to see me naked, all you had to do was ask.”

Rowan jumped, whirling around. He’d been so absorbed in his thoughts he’d failed to notice Aelin in the large tub on the other side of the room, soaking in the frothy water. Her hair was soaked, turning it a darker shade, and her long legs were propped up on the opposite side, exposing miles of tanned skin. He tried- tried, wyrd damn him, not to look, and failed miserably. Her sun-kissed skin was slick and shining with water, glistening in the candlelight. She had a small smile on her face, looking perfectly relaxed as she closed her eyes.

“See something you like, buzzard?” He still hadn’t spoken.

Their first night sharing quarters, and he’d already managed to walk in on the Queen ofTerrasen in the bathtub. He stared at her, frozen, before walking over to the tub. 

She wanted to play, he’d play.

He sat on the edge of the bath, bracing a hand on the other side so his torso was suspended above the water. Aelin opened her eyes. Rowan relished the hitch in her breath as he leaned in close enough to share breath, studying her face. The water was frothy enough that he couldn’t see anything indecent, and he met her eyes.

“What if I do? See something I like.”

Pink creeped up Aelin’s neck and cheeks, and he internally congratulated himself on getting her flustered for once. He could just imagine where that beautiful blush would spread if leaned in, or with her spread out beneath- Rowan stopped that thought before it could go any further.

When she didn’t reply, he chuckled softly, a lovers laugh, then withdrew, walking out of the bathroom, running a hand through his hair. 

He rolled out his bedroll, grabbing a couple of blankets and dropping them onto the thin mat. 

Rowan assumed Aelin would take the bed, she outranked him anyway. Gods, this was against all of his diplomatic training. Not that he cared much for protocol anyway. But, shit-

What had he just been thinking? Sure, it was good to turn the tables for once, but what he’d done was entirely inappropriate.   
Boundaries.   
Limits.   
Those were his new favourite words, he told himself. He had three hundred years worth of self-control, he told himself. He could keep his dick in his pants and mind out of the gutter for a couple more days. A couple more days, he told himself.   
Just as those thoughts were crossing his mind, Aelin walked out of the bathroom. He froze, eyes wide. She was clad in a dangerously short nightgown, the deep red silk clinging to her curves. The back dipped scandalously low, and was trimmed with black lace. She didn’t look at him, simply closing the window and turning to the bed. Rowan opened his mouth, then closed it, then opened it again.

“What are you wearing?”

“A nightgown.” Aelin slid under the covers, uncaring, but he just stood there. 

“And you don’t have anything else to wear?”

She arched a brow, “would you rather I sleep naked?”

Rowan almost choked, “No. No that’s fine. But uh- where’s the bottom part?”

Aelin looked endlessly amused, “there is no bottom part.”

“Oh.” He sat on his bedroll. So much for not getting flustered. 

“What are you doing?” Aelin’s voice cut through the silence that had enveloped them.

“What?”

“Why the hell are you down there?”

“And where would you have me be?”

“Well, not on the damn floor for starters.”

“Do you see another bed?”

“Why do you need another bed?”

Rowan sat up, looking toward Aelin, raising his eyebrows. She just smirked back at him. Rolling his eyes, he settled down on his roll. 

She was ridiculous. Her whole being seemed to go against all normality. Nonsense. Utterly and completely ridiculous. 

“Seriously Rowan, I’m not gonna bite, just sleep in the damn bed.”

He remained stubbornly on the bedroll. 

Aelin sighed, “suit yourself.” The room went black as she snuffed out all the candles using that remarkable control of hers.

He remained staring at the ceiling, ignoring the desire that was roaring through his blood, steadily shredding through his self-control. Gods he hoped she was in her human form, so she couldn’t scent anything out of the ordinary.  
Teeth gritted, he spoke into the blackness,   
“I’ve never seen- clothing like that.”

A rustle of bedsheets, “you mean to tell me the females in Doranelle don’t own scandalous nightwear? Or anywhere else in the world?”

“My encounters with females don’t usually involve parading around in nightclothes. Is-is all your clothing like that?”

A snort, then, “why are you so curious about my negligees anyway, Prince? Me in a nightgown can’t be the raciest thing you’ve ever seen.”

He remained silent, why was he continuing this conversation? He was an immortal warrior, for Mala’s sake. He’d waged war and ended it more times than he cared to remember.

“Is there a specific colour you’d like me to wear? If I’m going to scandalise you, I should at least do it in something you like.”

He didn’t answer, and after a moment, Aelin seemed to settle into bed more fully. Then,

“Gold. Not yellow. Metallic gold.”

“You're out of luck, I would never own anything so ostentatious.”

He grinned into the dark, before rolling over and pulling up the blankets.

-x-

Two hours later, Rowan woke, shaking. Gods, it was freezing in the mountains. The sparse blankets he’d taken for himself held barely any warmth, and he was cold to his very bones. He rolled onto his back and sighed heavily.   
Looking over at the bed, he could see a small figure curled up under thick, heavy blankets, breathing deeply and evenly. Rowan could practically feel the warmth taunting him from across the room.   
He let out a quiet groan, running a hand through his hair. He clenched his jaw, attempting to restrain himself one last time before sighing again and standing upright. He gathered his pillow and blankets, shuffling over to the bed.   
Looking down, he groaned for about the tenth time that night. Aelin had made the most of the space available, and was curled on her side, one arm stretched across the bed, her hair splayed out similarly. Rowan wondered if she’d wake up if he gingerly lifted her arm over there and-  
She sighed, rolling over and moving her arm, but remaining dead asleep, and Rowan sent a silent prayer to the gods for that small mercy.   
He flipped back the sheets, sliding under the warm blankets, suppressing a shiver and closing his eyes.   
After a moment, a voice spoke into the darkness,

“I knew you’d break.”

“Shut up.” He muttered quickly, eyes remaining resolutely closed. He should have known she’d wake up the instant he pulled back to the covers.

A soft, sleepy laugh that most definitely did not make his stomach flutter, then,

“G’night, buzzard.”

He paused,

“Night, Aelin.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come talk to me on Tumblr @booknerdproblems


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovely peoples! I am so sorry this took me so long to update, all my studying caught up with me. On that note, starting now updates may be a little erratic due to my mental health really taking a downhill the past couple of weeks.
> 
> Also THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU for all the amazing comments and kudos and wow guys almost 3000 hits!! That honestly means so much. I love to hear what you guys liked or didn't like about the latest chapter, so please never stop reviewing!
> 
> Anyways, here is the next chapter. The ending fought me a little, but I hope you enjoy nonetheless!

Chapter 12:

“What’s your favourite colour?” Aelin’s voice reached him from across the clearing, where she was seated on a hollowed out log, basking in the sunlight. 

It was Beltane, and Aelin and Rowan had been sparring all morning, and were taking a moment to recuperate before heading back to the whirlwind of the fortress and the party this evening. Rowan had no idea whether Aelin was planning to attend the festivities, but he was going to go, if only for alcohol. 

“Buzzard!” Gods, he was pissed that nickname had stuck.

“What.”

“Favourite colour.” She demanded.

“Green. Yours?”

“Red.”

Rowan hummed in acknowledgment, sitting down next to her and closing his eyes against the glare of the sun once more. 

After a couple of minutes of his own thoughts, he opened his eyes again, only to see Aelin winding a ribbon of flame through her fingers. He sent an ice-kissed breeze to coax at the flames, and Aelin smiled softly as their magic began to twine.   
Snowflakes began to whirl gently around them, and embers started to dance among the fallen leaves and he sat closer to Aelin, their legs almost brushing. He looked to his left, Aelin’s head tilted upwards, a serene smile on her face as she enjoyed the feel of their magics playing. 

“Aelin.” Rowan whispered.

“Mmmm?”

“Do you trust me?” Her eyes opened at the question, her features becoming more alert as she looked at him.

His eyes darted over her face, wondering if just maybe, maybe, his wild shot in the dark was correct.

She nodded slowly, looking slightly wary as he drew the dagger from his side. Rowan locked eyes with her as he drew the blade across his palm, the tang of his blood making her nostrils flare slightly. As he reached for her hand, understanding dawned upon her face as she realised his intentions. He carefully, carefully, made an identical cut across her palm, ignoring the way the scent of her blood set him on edge.  
Lacing their fingers together, he gazed into her eyes once more for confirmation as their palms met. 

Fire and ice and wind and embers. Ash and snow and air and smoke. Light and cold and breeze and heat. Rowan heard a small gasp come from Aelin as his magic barrelled into hers, and he pressed their foreheads together as their magics met in a whirlwind of power. It was an out-of-body experience, it was unlike everything he’d ever known, and oh gods, the feel of her. The smoke and ash and embers. The churning pit of flame inside of her went on forever, and his magic, the thing that had people trembling at their cores, was nothing, nothing, compared to the endless heat inside of her. Inside of this beautiful, wildfire female. A storm made flesh. A wicked, wonderful storm. A goddess in a mortal body. Her power, a behemoth prowling beneath her skin. He’d felt it, felt it that first night in Doranelle, when she’d loosened the leash a fraction, and even that was nothing- nothing compared to this.

Carranam

The word echoed between them, a confirmation of what he’d only suspected. Gods above, they were carranam. A bond so rare, so sought after it was second only to the mating bond. A bond between equals, between friends. Not soulmates, not as revered and holy as mates, but- Gods, to think, he could share power with this… queen. Wildfire touched with insanity.   
Useful on a battlefield, from a warriors standpoint.  
Dangerous, should Maeve find out. So, so dangerous. Rowan would be handing a tool of unparalleled destruction to her on a silver platter. He’d have to handle this so, so delicately. And Aelin was a queen. And he was blood sworn to another. 

Their hands parted, and Rowan felt the loss of her power like a blow to the face. He met her eyes, wide with shock and exhilaration.

“So.” Aelin started.

“Yeah.” He breathed, smiling at her.

She grinned at him, a lovely smile, wide and unrestrained. “Carranam.” 

“Carranam.” He confirmed.

-x-

Rowan had combed his hair, washed his face and put on his least dirty tunic. He was ready to head down to the festivities, but he and Aelin were going to go down together, and she was still holed up in the bathroom, getting ready. He was sharpening one of his knives, the rhythmic noise calming him, still reeling from the afternoon’s events. After they’d parted, he and Aelin had headed back to the fortress, splitting off to help with the preparations. Him, to help with the decorations, Aelin, to help (eat) the food prep in the kitchens. 

The door on the other end of the room opened, and Aelin walked out. She wore thick dark blue pants, clinging tightly to her long legs, with polished, black boots reaching up to her knees. A dark green tunic, embroidered with silver, hugged her lithe body. Her eyes had been illuminated with cosmetics, and her lips painted a dark brown, her skin flawless. Comfortable, simple, classy. Beautiful. 

Aelin smiled at his staring, and he quickly recovered, standing and offering her his arm.

“Look at you, buzzard, all gentlemanly.” She grinned, taking his arm.

“I did have court training, you realise.”

“Could have fooled me.” She said with a wink.

A couple of minutes later, they’d reached the party, set in a wide, barren valley, the shouts of merry revelers music on the ears. People leaped over two low bonfires at either end of the gathering, and demi-fae were gathered around a great bonfire in the centre, reaching high enough that Rowan had to crane his neck to see the tip of the flames. A table laden with platters of savoury meals and sweet delicacies was over the other end, and it was no surprise that Aelin immediately made a beeline for the table, weaving through the dancers swaying to the lilting music. That female ate enough for three fully-grown males.

He followed her over to the table, grabbing a savoury pastry and chewing on it, turning to face the revelry. Aelin came up beside him, wordlessly passing him a mug of ale. He sipped it, glancing at Aelin’s pile of food and smirking slightly.   
For a while, they just stood, side by side, watching the party. At least until Aelin hissed at him-

“Stop making that face.”

“What face?”

“With you glowering at everyone, nobody will ask me to dance.”

“I’m not glowering.” As he said it, he caught a growl in his throat aimed at a male who’d looked a little too long at her.

“Yes, yes you are.”

“I’m not stopping you from dancing, Princess.”

“Fine.” He glanced over at her annoyed tone, to find her draining her mug of ale, giving him a spiteful look, before slipping to the crowd of dancing bodies.

Rowan tried to follow her with his eyes, but the crowd was so dense, he only caught glimpses of golden hair or a flash of sparks here and there. He turned to monitor the jumpers, the bonfires burning low enough for the demi-fae to leap over. He’d never quite understood the tradition, often seemed stupid or childish. It was supposed to honour the gods, to pray for a good harvest. And after Lyria died, he’d stopped praying to any of the gods. They were long gone.  
For a while, he just stared at the flames, mesmerised, lost in his won thoughts. He stared for so long his eyes started to ache. 

His ears picked up a bright, lilting laughter, and he turned as Aelin stumbled out of the crowd, flushed and sweaty. All of a sudden, it was too much. The noise of the crowd, the scents, the fire, the laughter and smiles.   
Aelin latched onto his arm, giggling hysterically. He could smell the ale wafting off her breath, and he wrinkled his nose in displeasure. She grabbed the mug from his hands, raising it to her lips and draining it.   
He shook her off, and she seemed unabashed by his rejection, waving her hand as if trying to cool down.  
He sent a cooling breeze her way, and she moaned. The sound sent a rush of arousal through him, and he felt his skin tighten. The tilt of her neck, the way her back arched ever so slightly, the parting of her lips-  
She grinned at him, slightly manically, and he raised an eyebrow at her. 

“Why don’t you dance, buzzard?” Her words were slightly slurred, and he rolled his eyes, irritated. 

“I don’t enjoy dancing.”

“It’s so fun!” Aelin clapped her hands in enthusiasm, her blue eyes shining, “you’ve got plenty of women admirers, buzzard.”

“Not interested,” he replied. Indeed, he’d had several men and women alike approach him, but he’d always declined politely. Rowan started to feel too many eyes upon him, too many bodies pressed in a too tight space. His breathing became slightly uneven.

“You’ve got plenty of men admirers too, if you want to dance with-”

“I don’t want to dance, Aelin.” He cut her off sharply. A slight tremor shook through him.

“Grumpy, grumpy.” She poked his cheek, right over his tattoo, and he growled back her, 

“Aelin. Gods. Stop. Just stop. I don’t want to dance, I don’t want to drink, I don’t want to chat or gossip or whatever the FUCK it is that you want to do. Just leave. Me. Alone. I don’t care what you think, or who you are, or what you think of my dancing habits. I. Don’t. Care. Got it?” His volume had increased towards the end, and a couple of party-goers around them had stopped to stare. 

Aelin had flinched back slightly, hurt flickering across her face and echoing in her eyes.

He snarled once, and when she didn’t move, he stormed off, heading in the direction of the fortress.

-x-

Rowan was already in bed when Aelin returned, several hours later, but he remained on his side, his eyes closed and forcing his breathing to remain deep and even. 

She quietly went about her business, quietly enough to suggest she’d sobered up. She didn’t try to talk, to wake him up, to demand he give an explanation for what an ass he’d been. She just softly prepared for bed, as if trying not to disturb him, and somehow, it was almost worse than if she’d shouted at him. He’d been an idiot, but everything in that moment had suddenly become so overwhelming and he’d gotten a rush of panic and adrenaline. He’d apologise tomorrow, give himself time to sleep it off.  
Aelin slipped on another of those absurd nightgowns, before washing her face and blowing out the candles before easing herself into the bed next to him.

‘Tomorrow’, was his last thought before he drifted off into a fitful sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Side note: Did you know that Beltane is a real festival? Even the bonfire jumping is included!
> 
> Come talk to me on Tumblr @booknerdproblems


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovely people! I know it’s been WAY longer than I originally planned, but like has been SUPER crazy and mental health as been SUPER terrible. and also I’m really sorry, the writing in this isn’t great bc it’s so rushed but anywaysss. Without further ado, here’s chapter 13!

Aelin had already slipped from bed when Rowan woke up the next morning, already in a foul mood.   
He glared at his work table as he looked over the maps, glared at his clothes and weapons as he shrugged them on, glared at his reflection in the looking glass as he washed his face. He glared as he opened the window hard enough to rattle it, glared as he felt the lag in his body at the shift, glared when his hawk’s feathered wings barely fit through the small opening.

Rowan flew and flew and flew, working off the edge to his temper. He felt awful about what he’d said to Aelin last night. Truthfully, he hadn’t meant it. He cared much more than he wanted to admit. He cared about her stupid pestering questions, and her stupid hair ties, and the stupidly beautiful face she makes when she talks about her stupidly beautiful country. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

He landed a little way away from the kitchens, taking a couple of deep, calming breaths before walking in. The room, which would have previously been rendered silent when he walked in, stayed abuzz with chatter, a sign of how familiar Mistward’s inhabitants had become with him. It soothed some deep embedded jagged edge inside him.The kitchens were filled with the warm, comforting scent of freshly baked bread and the pungent scent of herbs. It was filled with people nursing hangovers and chattering quietly. He scanned the kitchens for Aelin, coming up short. 

Luca, bright red creeping up his round face, spoke, 

“She left a half hour ago.” 

Rowan nodded in thanks, turning to leave, and was almost out the door before a determined voice called him back.

The cook, Emrys, beckoned with a flour-covered hand, and Rowan followed him to the far corner of the kitchens, as not to be overheard.

“What did you say to her? Last night.”

Rowan opened his mouth to ward the cook off, but Emrys ploughed on, 

“She’s hurting, Prince. Since long before she arrived here. She smiles, laughs, like everything’s normal and happy, and she does a damn good job of keeping that mask in place. But there’s moments, when she doesn’t think anybody is looking, when that mask slips. She’s sad. Alone. And whatever you did, said, last night, that mask was damn hard for her to keep up today. So I think you should think, long and hard, about what you said to that girl. She may be a queen, but she’s only a little into her second decade, Prince. You may brush off all her lack of protocol as arrogance and indifference, but she’s _twenty-two _. And she does care. More than you think. I don’t know whatever is between you two, and I know well and good it's none of my business, but I’m warning you, Prince. There’s only so many times someone can break before they reach their limit. And when that woman breaks, well and truly, well- I- I don’t think we’ll survive it.”__

__Rowan had already decided to apologise, but Emrys’ words did make him think. There was a limit. And with all that power inside Aelin… She could, he knew. If she wanted to. And she might. One day, the gods would throw one more thing at her, and, well, she might burn the world to ashes. And start over. In a better world._ _

__And maybe… maybe that wouldn’t be a bad thing. She’d rage and burn, but then, after that, unite. And, he would follow her. If she allowed him. To whatever end. Damn whatever consequences Maeve threw at him. He’d fight it. Every day. For that precious friendship he had made._ _

__Rowan started into motion, nodding to Emrys and sending a goodbye glance to Luca before shifting and soaring out the kitchen door, and out into the open air._ _

__He flew over trees, around rocky outcrops, guiding the wind accordingly. Around noon, he sensed Aelin’s pull of power from a small clearing, a charming little pool of sparkling water in the centre. He dived sharply, cutting off the winds and almost faltering at the sharp change._ _

__He landed softly, purposely causing leaves to crunch underfoot as he approached Aelin. She was lying on a sun warmed rock, eyes closed, hair spread out like a halo around her head. She looked utterly relaxed, but Rowan knew she was perfectly aware of his presence. However, she allowed him to sit next to her, take his boots off, and stretch out._ _

__She didn’t move, so Rowan didn’t, either. And for a while, no one spoke. They just enjoyed the warmth of buttery sunlight, the faint gurgle of the water nearby._ _

__After a while, Aelin took a slow sip from the water skien she’d brought, eyes staying closed and barely moving. She didn’t say anything, simply passing it to him. He took a slow sip, eyes opening. Aelin had returned to her original position, but Rowan had some apologising to do._ _

__“Aelin, about last night-”_ _

__“It’s fine. I shouldn’t have pushed. Let’s just let it go.” She cut him off sharply, and Rowan sat up. Although she remained still, there was a tension to her face._ _

__“It’s not fine. It was rude and arrogant of me, and you didn’t deserve that.”_ _

__Aelin’s eyes finally opened, although she remained staring up at the serene blue sky._ _

__“No, you were right. We don’t owe each other anything. It’s fine Rowan, honestly, that’s not where we stand.” She sounded so cold and distant. Rowan ran his hands through his hair in frustration._ _

__“But I don’t want that, Aelin.”_ _

__Aelin sighed and sat up, looking into the trees, “Rowan, you don’t need to do this, honestly. Now I know where we stand, it’s fine. I had too much to drink and it was hot and the dancing-”_ _

__“Mala fucking fry me- _Aelin _.”___ _

____She finally stopped her ramblings and met his eyes._ _ _ _

____“I don’t want that, Aelin. I want to be friends. I want you to feel comfortable and trust me. And against my better judgement, I do want to trust you. Damn whatever Maeve thinks.” He sucked in a deep breath, “I claim you. I don’t care what you say or how much you protest, Aelin Galathynius, I claim you as my friend. To whatever end.”_ _ _ _

____Aelin’s eyes were filled with an emotion he couldn’t quite place, and she looked down, almost shyly, apprehensively, un-Aelin-like, as she smiled._ _ _ _

____“To whatever end?” She said softly._ _ _ _

____Rowan grinned, “To whatever end, Fireheart.”_ _ _ _

____She looked up, a great big stupid smile of her face._ _ _ _

____“Nobody has called me that since my mother died.”_ _ _ _

____“Do you not want me to call you that?”_ _ _ _

____“No! It's nice- to hear it again.”_ _ _ _

____He flicked her nose, “Fireheart.”_ _ _ _

____“Buzzard.”_ _ _ _

____He grinned, stood up, and promptly threw her in the pond, squealing and spluttering all the way. A minute later, when she emerged, hair plastered to her head, glaring, he jumped in himself._ _ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come talk to me on Tumblr @booknerdproblems


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovely people! I just wanted to take a moment to thank each and every one of you for reading, kudosing or commenting. Honestly the amount of support is overwhelming and I'm so very grateful!

Rowan awoke as the first rays of dawn were appearing upon the horizon, light filtering in through the window, bathing the room in a golden glow. He rolled over, and, just for a moment, allowed himself to study Aelin’s face.   
Her hair was like molten gold, strands tangled and knotted around her head. Her eyelashes rested on her cheeks, and her full lips were softly parted as she breathed deeply and evenly. His eyes wandered down her neck, over her shoulder, the rest covered by thick blankets. Rowan’s eyes flicked back up toward her eyes as she gave a deep sigh, eyelids fluttering for a moment. Her eyes opened, and immediately met his.  
For a minute, they just stared at each other. There was no desire or love in the gaze, no anger or frustration, no judgement or accusation. They just studied each other. Rowan couldn’t say what it was, or why it was happening, it just was. A sort of peace and understanding that ran between them.   
Aelin blinked, severing their eye contact, and sighed, turning more fully onto her back and groaning. 

“What is it?” Rowan chuckled.

“We’ve got to go back to _Doranelle_ today.” Aelin groaned.

Indeed, today they set off back to the City of Rivers, back to the responsibilities and pressures of society. Still, it had been nice to have this break, this time Maeve had unwittingly given him. 

He was still in bed, sitting up, contemplating his next move when a shoe hit him in the eye.  
Rowan picked it up off the covers, looking at the shoe, then at Aelin, half dressed on the other side of the room, then back at the shoe. He must have had a bemused look on his face because Aelin burst out laughing.

“What was that for?” Rowan asked, affronted.

“Get up.” Aelin stared at him as he raised an eyebrow, 

“I’m usually the one telling you that.”

“Yeah, well, I want to leave early.”

“Why? In such a hurry to get back to being revered, Your Majesty?” Rowan teased.

Aelin just rolled her eyes at him, lobbing another shoe at his head as she tugged on a jacket.

“Come on, buzzard.”  
-x-

Three hours and much complaining from Aelin later, they were backpacked up and ready to leave. Aelin had embraced both Emrys and Luca, settling for a nod and a handshake from Malakai. Rowan simply smiled awkwardly at the trio, a respectful nod that had Aelin rolling her eyes coming from them. 

And they were off. Back to a world of responsibilities and blood oaths and threats. Away from their little oasis of calm, their own little hideaway from the world.   
They chatted amicably about nothing as they hiked, Aelin pointing out signs of the Little Folk and often complaining that ‘honestly, Rowan, why couldn’t you shift into a horse instead’.

After about four hours, they stopped for rest at clearing, on one end of which was a beautiful sparkling waterfall. As many regrets as Rowan had about the blood-oath, he could say he was proud to roam such beautiful lands.

Spread out on the soft grass, Aelin had stripped off her shirt, and Rowan wisely averted his gaze. It was a warm day, and carrying the packs for so long had made even Rowan work up a sweat. Rowan sent a cooling breeze her way, and she moaned.

The sound made his every nerve come alight, his blood rushing straight downwards, and the tilt of her neck, the parting of her lips-

Rowan shook his head, cutting off the traitorous thoughts. 

“Hey buzzard, how deep do you reckon that water is?” Aelin asked thoughtfully, motioning to the waterfall pool.

“About four of me, I’d say.” Rowan reasoned.

Aelin grinned, a smile Rowan had come to realise meant trouble. 

“What?” He asked, running a nervous hand through his hair.

“Let’s go dive down the waterfall.” Aelin said confidently, her smirk turning slightly diabolical.

“No.” 

“But-”

“No.” Rowan said firmly. 

Five minutes later, he was shirtless, barefoot, and poised to jump down the waterfall. 

“This is a TERRIBLE idea.” He shouted at Aelin over the noise of the water.

“THIS IS A _FANTASTIC _IDEA, YOU JUST HAVE A TERRIBLE ATTITUDE.” Aelin yelled back.__

__“Aelin I really don’t think-”_ _

__He was cut off by a small hand giving a firm shove against his shoulder blades._ _

__Wind and water and freefall and WHUMP._ _

__The coolness of the water bit into his skin pleasantly, and the adrenaline rush subsided as a muffled splash sounded beside him._ _

__He broke through the surface of the water, air rushing back into his lungs as he shook his hair out, splattering water droplets everywhere._ _

__Rowan searched the water for Aelin, feeling a moment of panic before something heavy barrelled into his legs._ _

__He stumbled, momentarily going under as he regained his balance. Rowan met Aelin’s gaze from across the pool, eyes narrowing as he threw down a challenge. Her eyes were alight with wickedness and she dove back under as he sent a huge splash her way, her loud squeal sounding._ _

__He splashed and dunked and dodged, laughing at Aelin’s attempts to dunk him. Loud laughter rang around the clearing, and Rowan, for a few happy minutes, allowed himself to get drunk on the sound of it, the noise of unfiltered delight and happiness._ _

__Finally, he caught her around the waist, lifting her high above his face as she laughed. Her hair hung down onto his face, sodden with water, and he smiled softly at her antics. She quieted, giving him a rare shy smile as the mood changed. Originally, he was going to slam her back down, but now he gently lowered her, bringing her face to face with him as she trod water slowly._ _

__Aelin sighed, blinking at him as they smiled at each other, a sort of sadness settling over them._ _

__They didn’t have long left, to smile like this together, to have some time free of the masks they both wore. The pair hadn’t discussed how they were going to play it, they both just sort of...understood._ _

__It was all borrowed time anyway._ _

__-x-_ _

__Two hours later, standing on a ledge overlooking the City of Rivers, that borrowed time was up._ _

__Let the games begin._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come talk to me on Tumblr @booknerdproblems


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovely peoples! I’m so sorry it’s been too long, but life has been super crazy lately. I just wanted to thank you all for your amazing support, it honestly means the world! 
> 
> I wrote this chapter in about half an hour and I’m really not happy with it, so I’m going to go back an edit it at some point but I thought I’d post this anyway as it’s been WAY too long!

Rowan Whitethorn had never been so anxious in his entire life. He’d been to war and back more times than he cared to count, and yet this well and truly terrified him. Gods, he needed to pull it together. 

He was pacing the hall outside of Maeve’s throne room, which Aelin had just entered. They’d entered Doranelle around early afternoon, Aelin taking a deep breath and shooting a half-assed smile his way before marching into the throne room. Rowan couldn’t scent any of his cadre anywhere near, and he thanked the gods for that mercy. His ears strained to pick up anything on the other side of the oaken door, screaming or the clashes of swords or the scent of burning flesh. Honestly, he was a little disappointed that there weren't any.

The door opened, and Aelin walked out, head held high. She’d loosened the grip on her fire slightly, so she radiated power and status, even dressed down in simple travelling clothes.   
Rowan swallowed as Aelin looked towards him. Her mask barely faltered as she jerked her head toward the open doors, but he caught the glint in her remarkable eyes as she turned and swaggered off down the corridors. 

Rowan took a deep, calming breath before he steeled himself, walking into the throne room and instantly cataloguing his surroundings. Maeve sat upon the raised dais, clad in a simple black gown, a spider’s smile upon her red lips. Nobody else was in the room, but Rowan could scent hints of Connall and Fenrys from nearby chambers. 

Rowan kneeled, head bowed as he reached the bottom of the dais. He remained there as silence filled the chamber. Maeve could force him to remain there for eternity, if she wished. He’d never resented his younger, grief-stricken self as much as he did in that moment. 

After a moment, Maeve spoke, 

“Did you enjoy your little vacation with the queen, Nephew?” Maeve’s voice sounded endlessly amused, and Rowan tensed as his very blood compelled him to answer truthfully.

“Very much so, Your Majesty.” He said through gritted teeth.  
“Funny. She said the same thing.” There was no doubting which ‘she’ Maeve was referring to. 

Rowan didn’t answer, head still bowed and eyes fixed on Maeve’s feet. A muscle ticked in his jaw.   
The air was thick with tension, but Maeve still sat there lazily as if she had all the time in the world. She did, Rowan supposed. She had all the time in the world. 

“It has come to my attention, Nephew,” Maeve’s voice was completely free of emotion, making it impossible to tell how she felt about this, “that you and Aelin Galathynius get along rather well.” 

Even three centuries of training couldn’t mask the hitch in Rowan’s breathing, the sheer terror that came over him at that statement. 

Maeve smiled, as slippery as an adder, “Now, why would that scare you? I have no intentions of breaking up such a… fascinating pairing.”

Those two words made Rowan’s skin tighten, chills of dread to travel down his spine. The grip of the blood oath loosened slightly, just as Maeve clicked her tongue, impatient. 

“Stand.”

Rowan stood.

“During your quaint little holiday, I came to an agreement with the queen’s advisors. A trade agreement has been made. I would like for you to travel to Terrasen with the queen and her companions, to secure the trade deal and make sure there are no… ulterior motives.” 

Rowan swallowed, his voice failing him.

“You will stay for as long as is necessary. You will send me weekly reports on Terrasen’s court. You will not interfere with their politics.”

The orders settled in him like stones, one after another. 

“Do you understand, Prince?”

Rowan nodded, words failing him in that instant. 

“Your friendship with Aelin Galathynius will allow you into the deeper court machinations of Erelia’s political landscape. I want updates, but you are not to interfere. Terrasen has been a powerhouse on that continent for centuries, and I will not allow it to fail now.”

Rowan’s mind worked through every order. He was the last person for this job. He wasn’t a diplomat, was never asked to complete tasks such as trade deals. What was Maeve’s thought process behind this?   
Why did she need Terrasen to flourish? Did she have some sick hold over Aelin? Did she wish to control Erelia?   
And as for his friendship with Aelin… it was almost too easy. There had to be some catch. Sure, he had to report back to Maeve the ins and outs of Aelin’s court, but there were many loopholes he could use. And Maeve knew it. 

Maeve had finished talking, and was watching him intently, no trace of amusement to be seen. 

Rowan bowed deeply, “Then I’ll take my leave, Majesty.”

Maeve gave no response, so he turned and walked to the door, his heart in his throat. He looked back, once, as he opened the door, but there was only an owl perched on the arm of Maeve’s throne. 

-x-

Rowan hurried along the street, his lips threatening to turn up into a grin. He weaved through the throng of Fae out enjoying the buttery sunlight, intent on reaching that suite of rooms on the other side of the city. 

He finally reached the building, and he grinned up at the bricks as he reached for the handle. 

“Looking for me, Prince?” A voice drawled from across the street. 

He turned, a stoic expression on his face as he turned to the owner of the voice. 

“Why as a matter of fact, I was, Princess.” He replied, his lips twitching.

“Well, now that you’ve found me, whatever are you going to do with me?” Aelin’s smirk promised wicked things.

Rowan gave in, his face splitting into a wide smile as Aelin started towards him.

She ran the last couple of steps, throwing herself into his arms and burying her face into his neck. He grinned, blowing strands of her hair out of his mouth as he held her to him, breathing in her scent. The relief at the extra bit of time they’d borrowed was palpable, and Rowan was content just to hold her to him, breathing in the scent of her, his friend, his carranam. 

They remained like that for a while, content to stay there, holding each other as the world passed by.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come talk to me on tumblr @booknerdproblems


	16. Chapter 16

Three weeks of travelling, two mornings of Lysandra waking up and forgetting she can shift in her sleep, and one minor encounter with some ghost leopards later, and they were finally about to enter the outskirts of Orynth. Aelin was bathing in a small forest pool a little way off, Lysandra was lazing around whilst Ren scratched her belly absentmindedly. Rowan was attempting to brush his hair out, knowing he would be entering Terrasen’s court today, and he was attempting not to look like he could and would murder you given the chance. 

Travelling with Aelin and her companions was… interesting, to say the least. And gods, so different to him and his cadre. Him and his cadre were, at the worst, violent enemies, and at the best, begrudging allies. Only Gavriel was somewhat of a friend.  
Aelin and Lysandra, however, were completely different. Best friends, always giggling and bickering together while the human lord, Ren, rolled his eyes fondly at them. The man had merely shrugged when Aelin told him Rowan was accompanying them back to Terrasen, and Lysandra just smirked and shifted into a butterfly. Rowan was quietly looking forward to finally seeing Terrasen, despite his real reason for being there. 

For whatever scheming motives, there had been no order from Maeve not to tell Aelin or her court about his weekly ‘reports’. He hadn’t told them yet, the moment had just never felt right. Aelin knew Maeve could order him to tell her anything anyways, so the extra piece of information was slightly unnecessary. 

Sighing as his finger caught on another knot in his shoulder-length hair, he turned his eyes up to the canopy. Terrasen was truly beautiful; the first time he’d seen it, it had damn near taken his breath away. The Staghorns to the East, majestic mountains topped with power-white snow. Great rolling fields and forests, the scent of pine and snow that seemingly wrapped around everything like a blanket of peace. He could see why Aelin was so proud of her homeland.

-x-

Shouting and laughing, cheers and yells of happiness, all sounds that filled Rowan’s ears. Delicious scents of fresh flowers, bread, spices all reached his nose. And everywhere, people. Orynth was a hub of noise and bustle, everybody going about their business. Rowan stared as people of all species, races, shapes, sizes, abilities flitted about. Nearby, a couple of young fae were playing tag with humans, demi-fae were taking it in turns to see what different shapes they could make the water in the fountain turn into. Pixies were using voice amplifiers to sell their wares, and Little Folk could be seen in the shadows, assembling what appeared to be a flower crowns. Everyone blended together so perfectly, and in all of Rowan’s three-hundred years, he’d never seen a city so accepting of everything and everyone. 

Until then, nobody had noticed the group, Aelin at the head, Rowan to her left with Lysandra and Ren behind them. But as Rowan watched, people started to notice who strolled amongst them. People started to grin, yells of jubilation started to fill the air. The crowd thickened and became more excited, and Aelin, standing next to him, started to grin. 

“What’s happening?” Rowan asked, warily, looking around.

Aelin’s smirk widened, and her blue eyes started to sparkle with excitement, “We’re home.” 

There were a few more seconds of tensed excitement, in which the crowd became even thicker.

Then it _exploded._

Confetti and pixie dust filled the air, people started yelling excitedly. Flares were lit all around, the smoke from the bright flame cloying the air. Petals were flying everywhere, bright, sweet-smelling flowers being launched into the air. People pressed close, wide smiles on their faces. Loud bangs went off, and Rowan tensed, only for a coloured powder to be launched into the air, bright oranges and blues and pinks flying all around them. Magic filled the air, snowflakes danced among Aelin’s own flame mid air, and amongst it all, one common yell of excitement reached Rowan’s pointed ears _“the queen! The queen is home at last!”_

Rowan looked sideways in wonder, and Aelin laughed at the bewildered expression on his face. Streaks of that coloured powder danced through her hair, and someone had placed one of the Little Folk’s flower crowns on her head. A young demi-fae pressed close to his side, and a crown of delicate blue and white flowers was on his silver hair, fitting him perfectly. He looked around, through the sheer, joyous pandemonium, and met Aelin’s eyes, sparkling with happiness. She was shaking hands, hugging, laughing with her people, all sorts of goods being pressed into her arms. Lysandra wore a green and silver crown, and there was a pretty young girl with hideous scars on her cheeks latched onto Lysandra’s back, grinning in joy. 

_“The queen! The queen is home at last!”_

Just as Rowan thought the sheer chaos was going to overwhelm him, it, suddenly and without warning, quietened down to a murmur. In front of them, a people parted, a pathway being cleared. A man was striding down it, clad in a green and black tunic and a well-loved sword tucked into a scabbard at his side. He was about as tall as Rowan, hair as blonde as Aelin’s messy and wild in a bun on top of his head. He approached the small group, and a hushed sort of silence Rowan would only describe as reverence came over the crowd as Aelin stepped forwards, plastered in colour and confetti and flowers. The two met, and the man, who Rowan could only describe as a female version of Aelin, bowed deeply at the waist. 

“Your majesty.” He greeted. 

Aelin dipped her head, but went no further, “Your highness,” her voice was regal and court-like, “I suppose you haven’t, at the very least, burnt my kingdom down.”

“Ah, Majesty, if anyone were to burn the kingdom down, I’m afraid that would be you.”

The man straightened up, and they held eye contact for a heartbeat before the man grinned.

“Welcome home, cousin.”

Aelin let out a small, laughing sob, and threw herself onto the man, who Rowan assumed was Aedion Ashryver, General, Prince, cousin and in charge of the country whilst she'd been away, who caught her, and buried his face in her shoulder. 

The crowd roared, and Rowan was ushered forwards as more flares lit up, creating a winding path, and for the first time, Rowan saw where they led to. Jutting up from the city, was a huge, majestic castle, made of white, polished stone. 

The White Walls of Orynth. 

That castle held magnitudes of heavily guarded secrets. It had been a stronghold for the powerhouse of Terrasen’s court for centuries. It held the greatest library in the world. And Rowan, a blood-sworn to Maeve, Queen of the Fae, enemy of Terrasen for centuries, was about to enter it. 

The shouts became bitter to his ears. 

_‘The Queen! The Queen Is Home At Last.’ ___

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come talk to me on Tumblr @booknerdproblems


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